Lazarus
by ingra-of-mordor
Summary: Elizabeth Potter re-enters the wizarding world after years of torment. Now she finds that her destiny is already charted, intertwined with another's. A malevolent force is stirring, far worse than anything seen before. Elizabeth will have to choose her pa
1. Default Chapter

LAZARUS (prologue)  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters written about in cannon. For now, I only own Elizabeth Faye Potter and Westley.  
  
A/n- This is my first real fanfiction. (crosses fingers and hopes for the best). Feel free to review and give me some advice on writing, plot,..etc. I definitely have a plot idea for this fic and I have planned a few surprises along the way. Hope you guys enjoy it.  
  
A few quotes:  
  
"Science may have found a cure for most evils; but it has found no remedy for the worst of them all - the apathy of human beings".  
Helen Keller (1880 - 1968), My Religion, 1927  
  
"Look well into thyself; there is a source of strength which will always spring up if thou wilt always look there".  
Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (121 AD - 180 AD)  
  
Flashes of nuances of red and orange were burned into her mind. She could hear frantic yelling, feel the vibrations of the ground knocking her off her feet. The only thing she could rationalize now was the all consuming feeling of numbness and the unnaturally red, dry moon illuminating the ground with a reddish glaze. Why does the moon look like that, look so evil?! Suddenly, she could see the sharp rubble from a house littering the ground and a flash of red hair along with pale skin among the ruined shingles. Shapes floated in and out of the darkness such as she had never seen before. She moved blindly, struggling from the weight that pinned her down. Instinctively, she knew there was an unknown yet familiar presence near her. It meant her harm. Her heart was nearly beating out of her throat from the fear of that.thing..coming closer, knowing she had no escape, no means of defense. She couldn't stop it, no one could. It reached out through the haze of her terror and grabbed her with a rubbery hand. She knew it was death personified and that it had finally come for her. Elizabeth Potter awoke, drenched in sweat. Trembling and in a daze, she let her feet touch the ground and stumbled toward the window doors. She cracked them open a bit and let warm May air make contact with her skin. It was a relief just to have the moonlight enter the room. She then opened the doors as wide as they could so the room was bathed in a penetrating blue except for a few corners. As far back as she could remember, she had always had a terrible fear of the dark, especially the shadows in the corners of the room. Her eyes played tricks on her during the night, and she had the impression that something was crouched down, waiting.. She sighed, sat down on the cool floor near the doors, and ran a hand wearily through her auburn hair. She paused and glanced down at her left hand. The strange figure that marred her pale skin had turned darker tonight. Does it have some connection to the dream? She never minded this mark; strangely enough, she always was comforted when she traced the mysterious shape's outline with her finger. She just felt at peace, trying to guess what the shape was and what it meant. Most of all, it was unique. The other girls at the orphanage said that mark made her hand "gross" and ugly. She said to herself they were just jealous that they didn't have something unique about them although during the day she made sure her palm was out of their view. No need to go looking for trouble; there was plenty of it already in her current situation. It was actually the other marks on her right arm and side that bothered her and made it necessary for her to wear long-sleeved shirts even in the hot summer. These marks were a morbid black color (the touch); she didn't have to wonder what shape these marks formed. They were shaped like hands. The one on her arm was a very small print like a hand of a child and just barely circled her otherwise pale arm. The other one on her stomach near her thigh was quite large and resembled the limb of a skeleton. She remembered this description from when she was younger, and it tended to reinforce her intense dislike for the dark. That mark was like a wound from a war. It tells a story..I just don't understand..Somehow she felt like she survived something. However, she believed subconsciously that if the mark was spared a glance something might be inspired to try for a second time. Sometimes, if she was very sad, sick or angry, the hand that still grasp her side throbbed and could obtain gasps of alarm from her. She looked out at the scattered lights of the city nearby and thought about the nightmare she had awaken from. The nightmare was not unfamiliar to her; every few months, she would dream it. It continued to entrap her with its frightening reality. It became a part of her. Lately, she had begun to realize that as she got older the dream became more distinct and fierce in its intensity. She gained more awareness of all her senses in her dream state, and she could swear she felt the physical pain of the weight upon her and that touch. She had learnt early on not to cry out in her sleep. The administrator of the Westley Orphanage in Bristol could not be called a "tolerant man". His claimed that his " bleeding ulceror" in his life was her and the constant stream of unnatural events that clung to her. She couldn't explain these events herself. Windows breaking about her suddenly and teacups becoming animate and spewing hot liquid were just a few of the memorable incidents. These things tended to happen when she was upset, and unfortunately, around here, that was a constant state of existence for Elizabeth. She couldn't blame the other orphan girls and Westley for shunning her when such unnatural things took place in her presence. WHY? She closed her eyes and remembered her time at this so-called haven for unwanted children.  
She followed the sound of frantic sobbing through the maze of nasty-looking wires and fallen debris. Alice Dunfield got pushed down and cut herself severely on an upturned shaft of metal in the construction site near the orphanage, and she was left there by the others led by Queenie McKnight. Queenie was in fact the one who pushed Alice; she was most likely jealous that Alice was soon to be adopted by a relatively nice family in a few days. Queenie was especially poisonous when she was angry and was not bound by any limits of humanity in these mood swings. Elizabeth suspected Queenie and her group would gain up on Alice away from the watchful, slightly bulging eyes of Westley. So she followed them and discovered Alice Dunfield who had lost a dangerous amount of blood. Elizabeth furrowed her brow. This incident was so strange to her. It was like she was impervious to hysteria, and she needed to put her hands on the place where the blood flowed. She was driven by some sort of instinct..no by a force. She was just..in her role, doing what she was meant to do. She felt light- headed and a warm light within her seemed to spark. She bent over the crying girl; both were shocked when the wound disappeared without leaving a trace. She made eye contact with Alice and held her gaze. It felt so right to help another. Elizabeth felt like she had finally accomplished something. Surely, Alice would be as happy as she was about this miracle that had taken place for the both of them. Surely, this would forge a friendship, a human connection.. Alice Dunfield jumped up and threw a rock that she had been gripping in her distress. Pain shot through her head as Elizabeth stumbled back, shocked. Then, Alice turned and fled towards the orphanage.  
Alice left with her new family three days later but told everyone that Elizabeth had pushed her. This confirmed Westley's firm beliefs about that strange Potter girl's dangerous nature. "For the safety of the other girls", he confined Elizabeth to the basement of the old chapel which was pitch black where no light could possibly reach. Of course, he did so because he knew of her paralyzing phoebia. Perhaps, he thought, this will beat her unnaturalness out of her. Thank heavens, her cousin warned me about this..freak.. Yet, she had escaped from confinement and ended up somehow in the bell tower attached to the other side of the building. She failed to explain how she had gotten up there. Maybe I had retreated into my mind in a panic and was able to make my way to the tower. She just remembered a strange sensation running throughout her limbs and a feeling like she was soaring but in slow motion. This was the last straw for the enraged Westley (not the founder of the orphanage but the descendent). He moved all her belongings (the scant few she owned) and placed a small (miniscule) bed in the tower. Towering over her with his massive bulk (but smaller head with an even smaller amount of hair), he snarled at her that she could plan on staying up there for a very long time, that he refused to "tolerate" this madness that seemed to stem from her very being, that she was a menace that he planned to "save" normal people from. It's not so bad up here..for now," she thought. But she dreaded the fall and winter chill that was on the horizon..if Westley keeps me up here forever. Her ten-year- old mind shuddered at the inevitable months of loneliness. Not that I have any friends. All the children kept their distance from her and her "disease" especially after the whole Dunfield fiasco circulated. Each family that came to adopt a child cast her strange glances from her chatter and manner. I tried so hard for them to like me, I must have looked ridiculous. They moved quickly along to the next apparently normal girl with blue eyes and pigtails. Like she had any brains to fill an eggcup. Elizabeth made a promise to herself to never perform for anyone again. She would keep her dignity thank you very much.  
Now she glanced at the little bed with sheets that vaguely resembled mold. Yuck.If only I could fly away, escape from this hell. Westley often commented on how she was surely destined for "hell" as he delicately put it because of her "peculiar" presence she gave; her unnatural green eyes were surely an indication of her "mischevious" nature. Sometimes she found herself in the world of her imagination, and this gave her eyes a glazed over look. This defense mechanism provoked Westley who liked to have full attention when he spoke. Sir Westely (he insisted on this title from his wards) would have no doubt made a grand executioner if he had had the nerves to actually execution anyone. His nerves were his weakness; he could not handle the slightest disturbances which calls into question his position as a caretaker of young children. He ruled with a firm hand. He had routinely attempted to horrify the little girls under his charge with grotesque tales of the fires of the brimstone below. Elizabeth Potter was unaffected as she reckoned she already existed in such a place, reeking of the stifling dryness of the white walls and iron barred windows. She would actually prefer the stench of rotten eggs and sulfur than the stuff she had to eat for meals. Pushing such thoughts of the afterlife out of her mind, she recollected a glimpse of a movie she saw years back. She had hidden behind the huge green couch in the activity room (which had a few used dolls and an really ancient tv); she was so petite that she could comfortably fit and escape the cruel whispers and occasional physical abuse. In this fortress, she could also enjoy whatever was on the television that night. The movie was called Bedknobs and Broomsticks. She was fascinated, enthralled until she was discovered and severely punished. Westley must have imagined she would get ideas. Besides, she had gotten dust every which way and his nerves could not handle dust among many other things.  
She approached the bed and sat cross-legged near the end. Westley had been right for once. Elizabeth had gotten an idea. She hesitantly put her sweaty hand on the post, feeling somewhat ridiculous. Yet she felt justified and reached toward the unobtainable hope, the impossible idea that she might could just make it happen. She might could just make this poor excuse for a bed fly out the window and become her vehicle for a happier life. Strange things always happen around me so why not now? Besides, no one was watching, and no one would know unless the flaking walls could talk. She looked carefully at the double-bay windows that led to the rickety balcony. Lucky these windows aren't blocked. The posts of the bed could just scrap through. She grabbed the post with her left hand and willed the bed to fly, rise, or at least shake. Nothing.. Strange powers my arse! She felt offended and extremely naïve; moreover, she was overcome with extreme disappointment and helplessness. She was a fool to think she could control her situation or her life. She jumped angrily onto the floor and glared at the well-worn, useless, evil bed. She paced rapidly around the floor in deep thought. She stopped to spare a focused glare at the offending piece of rubbish. She paced some more around the room, carefully staying clear from the shadows in the corner. Then she jumped defiantly onto the bed again, carefully away from the under side of the bed. She wasn't going to sleep anyway (obviously not tonight); the nightmare had already ripped what little chance of sleep she had from her. It was much better to imagine an adventure instead of rotting away of boredom anyhow. She grabbed the post again and thought of the images she had in her head of soaring away. She chased a bird throughout the maze of broken swings. Its shadow flittered throughout the blades of grass. She ran faster in her pursuit in a pure state of unfamiliar bliss. She stopped at the crooked fence and watched it zoom away out of reach... Queenie threw a soccer ball straight at her unguarded stomach, and she bent over, gasping for breath... A brief circle of girls formed around her but she remained down on the ground... They moved away..She sat on one side of the dining hall, facing a sea of distant girls and adults.. She lowered her spoon to her plate and jerked back as a piece of somone's unwanted sandwich landed in her soup., Westley lowered his voice to tell a confused young couple that Elizabeth was not their best choice, that in fact she was one of the more disruptive children. Now Alice here was one of the sweetest children he had ever had the privelge of guiding, just a right ray of sunshinet..Elizabeth opened her eyes as the bed lifted neatly up from the hard floor.  
  
She let out a harsh gasp and the bed came crashing down on the floor. It seemed as if the whole fragile room shook. Elizabeth gazed at the figure on her trembling palm. She had felt that sensation again through her left hand. It was like a bolt of lighting had struck her whole being. It felt like a leg one had sat on for way to long, but it was pleasant as being dipped in a warm bath or discovering some joyful secret that was yours to own and treasure. It was something that she truly owned that no one could ever take. She heard squacking below and heavy footfalls on the wooden stairs. There was a huge an ominous thump on the railing that echoed throughout the stairway. With a thrill of horror, she recognized that thump as any inhabitant of this orphanage would. The thump of the secret whip Westley had in his office, the one that he hid from the men who came to inspect the orphanage. He rarely used it; there was his weak nerves again. He branished it plenty of times though and threatened to do serious damage. He was a sadist about the whip and kept it around his buckle as a reminder; she had inadvertently given him his golden opportunity to use it finally. Perhaps he got that thing when I was put into this orphanage. She desperately reached for the post again and focused all her thoughts, will, and memories on the task at hand. The post grew warm quickly under her touch. It was easier this time. She was again engulfed in the amazing sensation, and for once in her bleak forest of a childhood, she was in control.  
  
Darneby Westley stood in the doorway, stock still. His vastly intolerant mind was stumbling over itself, and he simply could not.would not..believe what he had seen darting with billowing, brown covers and a streak of red though the darkness of the tower. The horror..the audacity of it. It would have been a very comical sight to any newcomer to the scene. The whip slipped through his massive, limp hands and hit the floor with the last threatening thud. He gaped, eyes bulging, at the retreating posts of the bed with strands of long red hair waving over the top (seeming to wave a haughty good-bye.) A few hours later when dawn was starting to filter through the open windows, the cook came up and found him still gaping 


	2. Lazarus 1:Night on the Town

Freedom! Laughter pealed out of her; it sounded so unfamiliar. She hadn't laughed in  
  
a very long time. She smiled as the wind pushed the sound back at her. Then she leaned  
  
forward on the post and let the bed spiral through the clouds and drops of mist. The lights  
  
below danced and seemed to laugh with her. Straightening the bed, she watched as the  
  
headlights of unsuspecting cars drove along. The sky is mine alone..my sanctuary. The  
  
stars seemed to be singing along with her soul and the breeze held a hint of comforting  
  
words. Then, it dissolved into chaos as the bed drastically dropped downward.  
  
Elizabeth screamed in shock, her limbs locking in place with horror. WHAT'S  
  
HAPPENING? The ragged bed continued its descent. Elizabeth lost her grip on the post  
  
and clung wildly at the sheets which promptly covered her face. She was spinning in the  
  
darkness with the wild wind whistled past. Somewhere in her terror, she felt a kernel of  
  
determination. I will not die like this. She grasps outwards toward the post, and her hand  
  
made contact with the shaking wood. She willed it to stop, to obey her. It slowed  
  
painstakingly slow; the wind stopped to a slow murmur. She was cold with shock and  
  
struggled to free herself from the burdensome covers while her hand remained firmly  
  
clamped around the weaken piece of wood in a death grip .It feels as through it's about  
  
to break. Lucky for me I was so high up or I would be splattered on the ground. Finally,  
  
she tears at the cover, ripping it in two. Then she froze; her eyes met two pair of wild  
  
disbelieving brown ones. She was facing a young couple who were apparently set up for  
  
the night in a romantic suite. Yes, a girl on a flying bed wasn't what they were expecting.  
  
Time stood still as everyone remained frozen. Then the woman still gripping the sheets of  
  
the heart-shaped bed screamed. Man could she scream. Elizabeth unfroze and frantically  
  
turned the bed around. She zoomed off, diving past telephone wires, and looked over her  
  
shoulder. The flustered man was on the phone, shouting madly. She turned around and  
  
was blinded by the fluorescent sign of the LoVe-BuG Motel (complete with moving lips  
  
and hearts). She leaned all the way back and scraped the bulbs of the sign with the foot of  
  
the bed. Sparks danced everywhere! The bed spun forward, and she felt the last  
  
remaining covers fly off onto the street. Looking down, she saw a flash of brown attach  
  
itself to the window of a car, covering up the gaping face of the person inside. The car  
  
swerved to the side, brakes filling the air with a squeal and made a new entrance for the  
  
pub on the side street. Cars were sliding everywhere as the stupefied drivers and  
  
passengers caught sight of the wobbling flying bed. In mere moments, pandemonium  
  
ruled the streets as people ran from everywhere, pointing upward. Elizabeth felt tears  
  
sting her eyes as she struggled to raise the bed to get to some cloud cover or something.  
  
She was feeling so numb; her whole body was shaking madly from the effort of keeping  
  
the bed in the air. All she could hear was the thumping of her heart and the yelling from  
  
below as if it was from one entity. I am not going to let it fall. I can't let it fall! Ignoring  
  
the burning from beneath her lids, she drove the bed higher and higher, not matter how  
  
slowly. She could hear sirens from the nearby streets, foretelling the arrival of the police.  
  
What if they shoot me down?! She was sobbing now. She reached the rooftops at last.  
  
She moved the bed towards a desolate one but had to stop. It soon wasn't so desolate. A  
  
flood of blue uniforms raced through the door on the roof. They all stopped as a group,  
  
gaping at her. Then one in the front made a rapid movement, his hand reached downward  
  
for something at his hip. A Gun! She let the bed drop, and the roof top raced by, cutting  
  
off the sight of the police. She grabbed on and frantically slowed the bed. It felt so heavy.  
  
A thump told her the bed hit the ground. NO! She felt the energy renew inside her and the  
  
bed jumped forward. Shrieks were all around her, and people scattered about, waving  
  
their arms. She was blinded by two lights. She swerved to miss an oncoming car, horning  
  
blaring. Elizabeth felt the bed carry her upwards again into the sky, the horn still echoing  
  
inside her head. Shaking, she darted further still and was soon far above the shrieking  
  
city.  
  
Mists descended on her. She opened her strained eyes and realized she had made it to  
  
clouds. Her whole body ached, and her breaths came in gasps. Her side hurt as the mark  
  
of the skeleton's hand seemed to squeeze her as a form of punishment for the madness  
  
she had left behind her. She was freezing now, having lost all her sheets in the ride and  
  
her shabby clothing was little comfort. Her head buzzed as if it was filled to the hilt with  
  
stinging bees. I hope I didn't hurt anyone down there. Consumed with guilt, she had the  
  
insane urge to fly downwards again, just to check. Mad..that would be suicide. Like flying  
  
into a war zone! Sighing, she let the bed float although it strained her whole being. For  
  
some strange reason, it felt right just to float here in the dewy drops of water for a while.  
  
She felt so.detached from her body. It's like floating in a dream. Dawn started to  
  
illuminate the clouds around her, creating a rainbow affect of fierce reds and oranges; it  
  
reminded her uneasily about her nightmare. How long have I been up here? Closing her  
  
eyes, she heard a faint sound. Then it grew louder. I can't believe my head is pounding  
  
this much. Wait.. It wasn't a buzzing sound, it was more like a roar. The wind ripped up  
  
around her as a deafening sound left her gaping as it fly over her. She choked on fumes  
  
from the plane. To her horror, she heard it turning around. That is way to fast to a regular  
  
plane. Have they sent a jet up here looking for me?! Again it passed by, rippling the air  
  
and engulfing her in its wake. They know I'm here! I have to get out! Blinded by her  
  
terror and tears, she drove the bed from the clouds, hearing the jet circling around. I hope  
  
he didn't see me..though someone will. It was still wasn't fully morning yet. Maybe I can  
  
hide in one of those buildings if I could just make it. Then she felt the rush of the jet  
  
behind her and the force of the engines spun the bed upside down. Elizabeth felt her hand  
  
slip off the post. It seemed a moment that lasted a surreal amount of time. Then she fell.  
  
Everything spiraled around her as she felt her body turn through the air. I am going to  
  
die. She opened her eyes, crying as an empty grey flew by her. She almost passed out but  
  
the pain in her side kept her attached to reality. Then she screamed as she felt an arm slip  
  
around her waist. She flung her arms about madly. Where are they? I can't see them!  
  
She was being propelled through the air but she felt a warm body besides her. Kicking  
  
outward, her foot got caught in folds of clothing that was streaming behind her. A cape?!  
  
Is this some sort of hallucination?! Her mind was numb, blooding rushing to her head as  
  
she was carried upside down behind a rickety building. She recovered and lashed out a  
  
final kick. She hit a narrow piece of something and heard someone gasp as she fell  
  
headlong into a heap of rubbish. Thrashing about, Elizabeth gained her footing among  
  
the banana peels (among other things) and backed against the grimy wall. For the third  
  
time, she was blinded..by bright violet hair!  
  
A woman stood before her with a heart-shaped face and spiked up violet hair.  
  
Elizabeth gaped and struggled to stand up. The woman beamed at her. "Wotcher, Lizzy!  
  
That was some ride, eh? I do think we've lost the muggles though!" The woman  
  
straightened the goggles she had on her head with a violet gloved hand and took a step  
  
forward. Elizabeth gasped and inched along the wall as far away from this woman as she  
  
could. Looking around, there was no one in sight. Shaking with her face beet red, she  
  
looked wildly at the woman like a caged animal. The woman frowned. "Easy there. I  
  
guess I didn't introduce myself. I'm Tonks and I was a friend of your father and mother."  
  
Through her panic, Elizabeth registered these words. She moved away from the wall  
  
slightly, still using it to balance herself. "You.knew my p-parents?" Her voice was  
  
hoarse from screaming. The woman smiled even wider. "You bet. I never met kinder and  
  
braver people. You have your father's eyes you know. Though I see a lot of your  
  
mother's family in you." Elizabeth blinked, looking down. She was trying to decide how  
  
to phrase her next question. Gathering her courage again, she said weakly, " Umm..if you  
  
don't..er..mind me asking, what exactly..I know you told me your name, but who are  
  
you?" Well, that sounded rude enough. Grimacing, Elizabeth mentally beat herself over  
  
the head. Amazingly, Tonks clapped her own gloved hand to her head, laughing. "Well,  
  
of course you wouldn't know! Sometimes, I forget the obvious, you know. But can you  
  
blame me, what with you flying a muggle bed?! An impressive bit of magic I might add.  
  
Lizzy, I am a witch..and so are you." A witch! This was the most shocking news yet.  
  
Westley had always vehemently hissed at her that she was a little hellcat.a little witch. It  
  
obviously wasn't a complement in the least. But this..Tonks didn't look like the typical  
  
picture of the witch that floated to Elizabeth's mind. A green skinned woman with  
  
gnarled hands and a black hat on top of her head crackling "I'll get you my pretty and  
  
your little dog too". Feeling dizzy, Elizabeth placed a hand on her pounding head and  
  
unceremoniously sat down on the dirty alley street. Tonks gazed down at her a bit  
  
concerned. Elizabeth peered up at her. "Sorry, I'm alright..this is just a little shocking  
  
that's all". Sighing, Tonks crouched down beside her, violet cape flowing around her.  
  
"That's probably the normal reaction. I myself grew up in a wizarding family so I always  
  
knew. But you on the other hand.." Tonks reached out in a motherly fashion and brushed  
  
the tangles of red hair out of Elizabeth's face. "If you're feeling up to it, I'll take you to  
  
the person who will probably explain this whole thing better than me. It will all be sorted  
  
out." Standing up, Tonks offered Elizabeth who was still on the ground a gloved hand.  
  
Hesitating a second, Elizabeth reached up and took her hand. Tonks pulled her up and  
  
patted her on the back. "There now. I daresay you have already had enough flying for one  
  
day. You father would have been proud, I'll tell you that." Winking, she indicated a  
  
broken broomstick lying against the faded brick wall of the old factory. "No worries  
  
about that. It was an ancient model anyway..an early Nimbus. The new Firebolt makes it  
  
look like a snail by comparison. That last kick you dealt finished it off. Good thing  
  
Dumbledore gave me a portkey just in case. Never misses a trick that man." Chuckling,  
  
Tonks fished out a bag of candy out of her cloak. "This is a very Dumbledore idea, this  
  
here. He's still a child at heart even at his age." Elizabeth just nodded, feeling  
  
overwhelmed by the flow of unfamiliar words. Firebolt? Portkey? Tonks peered into the  
  
bag and with a furrowed brow began to delicately pick a lemon drop. Dumbfounded,  
  
Elizabeth watched examined it closely, shook her head, threw it over her shoulder, and  
  
picked another candy. Lemon drops are these portkeys..wow! Never would have  
  
suspected that. No wonder Westley was so anti-sweets. However, Elizabeth began to  
  
become concerned as a steady pile of lemon drops were accumulating in the alley. She  
  
politely focused on the dirty windows of the factory as Tonks grumbled to herself. "Yes,  
  
I found it! Portkey was a little too concealed right! Are you ready..?" Tonks was  
  
interrupted by the series of cracks like a car being shot off behind them.  
  
Heart in her throat, Elizabeth jumped a foot off the ground and ducked  
  
behind the violet haired woman. Standing in the alley was a whole group of people who  
  
apparently popped out of the ground. They were all wearing a very official looking  
  
uniform with a cloak. Two took down their hoods, and Elizabeth chanced a look at them  
  
from behind Tonks. One man had hair that was a much more vivid red that Elizabeth's.  
  
He glared contemptuously from behind his horned spectacles (which were slipping  
  
rapidly down his long nose). His face looked like an explosion of freckles but he  
  
obviously was a man of importance or thought he was at least. His companion was a pale  
  
wisp of a man, and the first thing Elizabeth noticed about him was the sneer firmly  
  
implanted in his face. He had the lightest grey color to his eyes which made them almost  
  
translucent and disappear in his pointed face. He looks so cold..like a living replica of an  
  
ice sculpture. It was the tall red-head that spoke first. "What is the meaning of this  
  
disturbance. May I remind you that I have already dispatched a warning against  
  
Dumbledore's little group. He may think he can do whatever he likes but I will not  
  
hesitate to clear up that naïve misconception. What do you think you are playing at! The  
  
muggles are in an uproar about a flying bed that wrecked half of downtown Bristol. What  
  
does that old fool mean by it?!" This last statement was a shout. The man seemed to have  
  
lost control completely and spittle flew from his mouth. He glared with his face a horrible  
  
pruce, and his companion cast him a disgusted glance before turning his gaze  
  
on..Elizabeth. "It seems Minister that that girl behind that poor excuse for a witch is the  
  
root of the trouble today. My, my..she has the look of a Weasley, wouldn't you say? I  
  
guess you would know." The red-headed man huffed up in rage but when he caught sight  
  
of Elizabeth, he gaped like a fish. Then pale man continued, " And yet, she reminds me  
  
of A Potter." There was a distinct murmur and rustle of cloaks behind the two and faces  
  
crept around them to stare at Elizabeth who was very uneasy to say the least. The  
  
Minister straightened up and composed himself. "I believe that Dumbledore and I had an  
  
agreement concerning this issue after the incident with the Potters. The Potter girl would  
  
only be allowed to enter the wizarding world when the time came for her to start school.  
  
Till then she was to live with the muggles for her safety. No, I'm sure I didn't dream that  
  
whole arrangement up. Surely Dumbledore wouldn't endanger her with his love for her  
  
late father. So that begs the question of her presence with you? " He smiled a rather  
  
sickly smile, eyes glistening. I hate being talked about in third person. Elizabeth felt a  
  
wave of embarrassment and confusion pass through her. This was all happening so fast.  
  
What does he mean the incident with the Potters? Her head was throbbing again, and her  
  
knees felt very weak. She was biting her tongue so hard she tasted the metallic taste of  
  
blood. She wanted to rant and scream at the people, and demand some answers. That  
  
puffed up guy thinks he's really something..best let this play out. Elizabeth couldn't help  
  
by think how funny this situation would look to anyone who happened to pass by. A short  
  
girl in ripped pajamas surrounded by blokes in cloaks and a woman with punk hair in all  
  
violet apparently having a serious discussion about something. Through this whole  
  
tirade, Tonks had kept her cool and smiled pleasantly at the men in front of her. She  
  
began gently as though talking to a very small child who consequently was from a  
  
foreign country and couldn't speak a lick of English. "Minister, you should know that  
  
children can cause wandless magic. Elizabeth seems to have reached her peak of magic  
  
and can not remain with the muggles any longer. Situations change..and you shouldn't  
  
speak so coldly. She is your sister's child." Elizabeth felt like she was just hit in the  
  
stomach. She wildly looked at the tall man. He's..my uncle! He left me in that hell hole?!  
  
Anger clenched her muscles and the hand at her side seemed to tighten its grip. HOW  
  
COULD HE?! She let out a gasp of pain (from that touch) that everyone seemed to ignore  
  
except the man with the cold eyes. He glanced over and studied her. His mouth twitched  
  
as though amused by something. His eyes bore a hole through her, and her anger faded  
  
into a frightened silent horror. There is something..wrong with that man. I feel like I'm  
  
four again. The Minister bit his lips. Then he realized what Tonks was saying. He  
  
laughed derisively. " Are you saying that This little girl flew that bed? Dumbledore must  
  
think me a fool if he expects me to buy that story. My pathetic brothers could cook up a  
  
more credible one." Tonks flared up in anger, and clenched her fist. " Don't insult  
  
Dumbledore again. He is not a liar. Yes, Harry Potter's daughter flew that bed driven by  
  
her magic. And yes, I know she did because I saw her at it. Didn't the muggle radios  
  
mention a red-head girl? I bet her magic rose up in her because that muggle orphanage  
  
was a DISGRACE! The hero of our world's daughter live in that?! You should be  
  
ashamed. YOU'RE HER UNCLE! YOU'RE PARENTS WOULD HAVE BEEN  
  
HORRIFIED BY YOUR ACTIONS! YOU ARE A DISGRACE! If you were any type of  
  
man at all you would have.." "Enough", the minister (my uncle) growled, " Honestly, her  
  
muggle cousin wouldn't put up with her. I don't blame him knowing Harry Potter as I  
  
did. Yes, the muggle world was the only safe haven for her at the time. It was an  
  
excellent decision on my part even if you are to personally involved to see that clearly".  
  
The minister seemed to have reassured himself immensely. Clearly his throat he asked  
  
where Tonks was taking the Potter girl. "To Dumbledore," she answered firmly. The  
  
minister rolled his eyes and looked back at the others as if a grand joke had just been told.  
  
"Yes, I shall allow you to take her to him as he is getting on in the years and still is  
  
headmaster of Hogwarts. I simply have too much to deal with at the moment with a bed  
  
lying on the muggle roadway and all those witnesses. It will take ages to simply obliviate  
  
their memories from this damage! Worse than when that renegade dragon attacked those  
  
muggles on the beach! But know this, I want to a conference with Dumbledore  
  
immediately afterwards". Then he disappeared with a crack and the others  
  
followed. Only the pale man remained behind. He sneered at Tonks and met Elizabeth's  
  
gaze once more. Then he too vanished, leaving Tonks and Elizabeth alone in the drank  
  
alley.  
  
Tonks sighed and unclenched her hands. One hand had disappeared under her  
  
cloak and had grabbed hold of her wand during the encounter. She forced a bright smile  
  
at Elizabeth. "That was unpleasant. Where were we? Ah yes, the portkey." Elizabeth  
  
spoke up. "Wait.. did my father..do something disgraceful to those people? Why was I  
  
punished and sent to a orphanage if I had a family out there?" Elizabeth was shaking and  
  
felt like sobbing. Her mind reeled with a her emotional state upturned with the discovery  
  
she had a family. They didn't want me because of my father. Tonks smiled gently eyes  
  
full of sadness, "No, you're father saved the wizarding world from a horde of dark  
  
wizards. He defeated one of the worst Dark Lords ever to come to power." "Then why  
  
did those men act that way towards him..like he did something wrong?" Tonks looked at  
  
her a long time, apparently thinking of how to explain to her. Elizabeth fought the urge to  
  
look away, ashamed at her tear-streaked face. Tonks slowly started to speak almost in a  
  
whisper. Elizabeth had to lean forward to catch her words. "It's what happened  
  
afterwards, Lizzy. Your father did defeat the Dark Lord and put most of his followers in  
  
Azkaban, the wizarding prison. You have no idea. It was like a huge weight had been  
  
lifted off us. We were free to laugh and rejoice; we were free to care about one another  
  
again without fear of our love ones being taken from us. Your father and mother stood  
  
out as a light of hope for us. One night, a year after the Dark Lord's defeat, your family  
  
was attacked. Your father and little brother are believed to be dead. Only your mother's  
  
body and yourself alive but weak were found among the wreckage of your home. The  
  
chaos that followed was terrible. No one knew what had happened. It's still a mystery. As  
  
I said earlier, your father and mother were close friends of mine. I got to watch as your  
  
father became a great man. We fought along side each other." Tonks had to stop as her  
  
voice got caught through her sadness. She opened her large violet eyes to gaze at  
  
Elizabeth with an aggrieved pride. "He was a great man, Elizabeth. It was unthinkable  
  
that someone could attack him. The whole wizarding world wanted to know what  
  
happened that night so they could avenge him. All the suspected dark wizards were  
  
gathered and questioned with the Truth potion but they didn't know.." Tonks voice  
  
trailed off. Silence stretched for an eternity between the two. Elizabeth drew in a deep  
  
breath. It was like drowning in a sea. I feel like I can't breath. I can't remember  
  
my family or what happened that night. I've never felt so helpless or useless. "Those men  
  
and others like them want to forget about Harry Potter because they can't help but feel  
  
terror and helplessness inside them. I know that feeling. But they are just cowards, and  
  
you should give them no mind. I believe we have kept Dumbledore and the others  
  
waiting for a while. The others will be glad to meet you, Elizabeth. If you are ready.."  
  
Elizabeth bit her lip. This is all so much. But I have to go on. I have to found out what I  
  
am. I've gotten this far. There is no turning back now. Looking up, she nodded at Tonks  
  
and accepted the lemon drop in her outstretched shaking hand. Startled, she felt a tug at  
  
her navel and a swirl of wind as her feet left the street. 


	3. Lazarus 2: On to Hogwarts

Standard disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter so.there. Any character who don't recognize is mine. I hope you guys enjoy this story. Please review. Happy New Year! Don't party too hard.  
  
~~~~~~~~~ Wind was all around her; she was going to fast to comprehend anything at all; her body struggled against force seeming to travel with her. Elizabeth felt her palms sting as she was pushed onto a cold stone floor with a slap. Vision blurring, she hurried to straighten up, not wanting to look stupid. With a jab of surprise, she realized she was in a dark corridor with a few torches lit. She whirled around, looking anywhere for her violet haired companion. She was no where to be seen. Elizabeth stood stock still, watching the images cast upon the stone walls by the flames. She struggled to get air but every breath she took shoved cold air into her trembling mouth. It was like drowning while breathing. It was so cold. Like that touch. Feeling weak, she leaned against the wall, the cold stinging sharply through her clothing into her back. Instead of the frigid air, this cold grip made her awake and overcome her dizziness.  
  
What have I gotten myself into now? Dark shapes continued to dance around her. I just have to breathe; I'll just lean here. No, Elizabeth! You have to get moving and figure something out. But her body didn't seem to want to obey her. Just as she convinced her hands to let go of the crevices in the stone, she was blown back as a flash of violet and a swirl of a cloak announced the arrival of Tonks who promptly tripped herself.  
  
"Opps!" Tonks caught herself against the wall and smiled at Elizabeth. "Sorry. You know my portkey just had to be at the very bottom of the bag. Are you alright there, Lizzy?" she asked, catching sight of the very pale face of the girl on the floor. Elizabeth quickly nodded and stood up. Tonks smiled awkwardly, clasping her hands together.  
  
"Dumbledore's office should be around here somewhere. I haven't been to Hogwarts in awhile".  
  
Elizabeth just nodded again although it made her very dizzy again. She wasn't quite sure what Hogwarts was but felt she just needed to go along with this whole thing to get some answers. Tonks walked briskly forward, cloak swirling around her; the oversized shadows of the wall mimicked her actions. So did Elizabeth as she began to follow. Her cold bare feet slapped unceremoniously in concord with the clicks of Tonk's heels. This is the adventure I was waiting for. The halls weaved and turned randomly as if they had a mind of their own. The mystery of this place seeped through the walls towards her very marrow. It seems so lonely here. Indeed, the narrowness and darkness of the hallways was suffocating, and Elizabeth had to steel herself against her thudding heart.  
  
Tonks passed through a huge door at the end of the halls and Elizabeth paused as her cloak whipped out of sight. Hurrying forward, she pushed the door open which was a very trying task. The soles of her feet slide back as she, feeling stupid again, put her full weight into the door. She was pulled forward when Tonks grasped the door to let her through. Elizabeth gasped when she saw this room; the memory of Alice and the Looking Glass flashed before her mind. It was filled to the hilt with all sorts of mirrors. Looking up, she spied some on the ceiling as well as the floor.  
  
Tonks said apologetically, "Oh dear. I hope this is a short cut." She tipped toed around the mirrors on the floor and managed to make it to the door on the opposite side of the room while occasionally tripping. Seven years bad luck is something I have had enough of. I am due for some good luck. Elizabeth made it past the mirrors herself although she thought she glimpsed flashes of faces in them; she even thought she saw some fingertips brushing the glass lightly. Tonks held open the door, and the next room was even grander. It gave off a distinct sense of warmth. Tapestries of rich colors graced the stone walls. She could sense something in the air here, something akin to when she flew on that ragged bed and when she helped Alice. It seemed comforting and magical. Elizabeth turned around to gaze at the numerous statues and suites of armor that lined the sides of the room. Sensing something above her, she lifted her head and gasped. Candles were floating above her. She was drawn into flickering lights until she was broken out of her reverie by the sounds of banging metal.  
  
Tonks jumped about a foot in the air. "For cripes sake Peeves cut it out." Elizabeth backed away nervously as a darting wisp of a man leapt out of the suite of armor. Freezing in shock, Elizabeth just stood there as the short little man whirled around her shouting "ickle little leprechaun". Tonks sighed and took out her wand while muttering, "Vox Deciets." From behind the transparent menace, Tonks spoke in a grating, hollow voice with made the hair on Elizabeth's neck stand up.  
  
"Peeves, what is the meaning of this? How dare you behave so in my presence!"  
  
Peeves's mouth literally hit the floor (not a pretty sight as Elizabeth had to look down his throat from where she was standing).  
  
"No sir my bloodiness sir!" he squeaked as he zoomed through the ceiling without looking back. Elizabeth stared after him, dumbstruck. Tonks muttered under her breath and cleared her throat.  
  
"Now, on to Dumbledore shall we." Tonks quickly swept pass the big double doors on her right and up the stairs. Elizabeth blindly followed, still caught up in the moment before. Her thoughts were in a rush and muddled among themselves. Was that a ghost? NO! It isn't possible. Strangely enough, subconsciously, Elizabeth was most unsettled by her encounter than anything else: not the flying bed, broomsticks, men appearing in alleys, or portkeys. A spirit of a dead person spoke to me and it could have attacked if it had wanted to and there would be nothing I could do about it. Shivering, Elizabeth shook off the feeling of helplessness and loss of control. Looking back at the room, she thought she had heard people's voices behind those double doors. Realizing with a thrill of horror that Tonks had turned the corner out of sight, Elizabeth sprinted after her. She almost slipped as the carpeting on the floor seemed to reach up and grab her. Tonks caught her arm, smiling.  
  
She giggled, "I hope you're not as accident prone as I am, Lizzy. It's quite a burden. Stealth always is a virtue." Then Tonks grimaced. "Heh, I am starting to sound like o' Mad Eye. Oh yeah, watch out for the stairs. Tricky little buggers, they always move when you lest expect them to."  
  
"Whah.."  
  
Elizabeth was cut off as half way up the next stairway it decided to move. She wobbled around on the step as the stairway traveled to the opposite side of the room. She grabbed the nearest thing to her and held on. "Egad. You cur! Assault me while I slumber! Let me introduce you to my launce, fiend!" Elizabeth did fall that time as she jerked her hand off an innocent looking picture that she had grabbed hold of before. The fat stubby man in the portrait waved the said pike around menacingly, gritting his teeth in a fierce battle pose. She scooted away as fast as her arms would carry her. "Silencio."  
  
The man in the picture made several rude gestures at Tonks as he darted away into the picture. Tonks glared after him, saying, "I must speak to Dumbledore about the manners of these portraits. They have a bit of an attitude." Many mutinous murmuring and grumbles came from the walls around them, and Elizabeth felt a bit queasy.  
  
She quickly tried to correct the situation, "Erm-it's alright really. It was my fault." It's so odd to be apologizing to a picture. I must've finally cracked.  
  
"No, it wasn't your fault at all. It's the prat who built these stairs fault, " Tonks soothed her while glaring venomously at the narrowed eyes and scowling mouths around them.  
  
A disgruntled voice piped up from above them, "I'll have you know that the fairest Helga Hufflepuff enchanted those stairs, which you are defiling with your ungrateful shoes. Why must you wear such ridiculous shoes? It is simply gaudy! In all my years..."  
  
Tonks grabbed Elizabeth's hand and ushered her along. "Let's move to a more pleasant atmosphere." A choir of hisses followed them as they hurried up the stairs and into the next corridors.  
  
Elizabeth avoided making eye contact with any portraits they encountered along their journey. It's been forever. Are we ever going to make it to see this guy before I pass out from exhaustion? That would be an uneventful end after the flying bed bit? It certainly seemed like weeks had gone by as she continued to follow Tonks. She was quite cold now and shivered despite herself, desperately wishing for a cloak as well. I wonder if I really have gone nutters. There is a possibility. Maybe Queenie threw that last ball at my head a little too hard. I mean talking pictures and little flying men. The real problem that Elizabeth had was accepting that she really might not be alone in her powers. As far back as she could remember (besides that time that is blinded by flashes of red and a locked by a cold Grim Reaper's hands) she had been called a freak.  
  
It grew in her mind to such an extent that to be told that she really wasn't that freakish was a bit of a shock and in some ways a putdown. She had built the foundations of her identity on that idea. How can it change so drastically within a few hours? She realized that this was her chance to break out of her isolation, to find some place I belong. But can I? She still felt suspicion towards the violet haired woman and then struggled with the guilt of having these thoughts. Torn in her mind, she cast her eyes towards the walls around her and tried to admire the tapestries among the wall.  
  
Suddenly, a tingling sensation raced forth along her spine. She felt someone's gaze burning into the back of her head. She turned around defiantly with heat rising unexplainably to her face. She saw a tall boy watching her. It appeared that he had been following them. Stealth is a virtue. He stiffened in shock when she turned around and looked at him; it was like he never knew any one to look at him before. She studied the boy cautiously. He was extremely pale and very sickly looking. She could tell that he was older than her and easily towered over her. Still feeling defiant, she glared into his face and bit back a gasp at what she saw. His eyes blazed back at her, dancing with a flicker of red. Fire. Red. Touch.  
  
She felt her mind completely go blank as the connections assaulted her. She let out that gasp she had been holding. He tilted his head to the side to look at her; there was a look of surprise etched on his face mixed with his own defiance. Was it anger? He mouthed something to her. Perhaps he really was speaking but the sound didn't reach. Her own body betrayed her as she moved forward to hear him. Then he simply disappeared. Not like those men in the alley did. He just faded away like he was never there at all. Elizabeth still felt her blood coursing through her, pounding her ears mercilessly like drums of war. Raising her hand slowly to her face, she gasped again. The mark on her hand shone a dark red. She touched it slowly. It's not bleeding. How strange, this has never happened before. Is it something to do with him? She jumped and let out a strangled shriek when a hand grasped her shoulder.  
  
"Easy there. I-I didn't mean to frighten you. I-um-I turned around and you weren't behind me. Are you sure you're alright? You're very pale, Lizzy." Tonks reached out to touch her forehead but Elizabeth stepped back swiftly and faked a smile.  
  
"I'm fine really. I just-did you see that boy following us?" Elizabeth could have kicked herself. She really didn't need to mention it at all when he clearly just disappeared with mysteriously. I don't need someone thinking I am as crazy as I really am. I don't want her to think that of me. She was surprised that she cared as much as she did, but she wanted Tonks to like her.  
  
"Boy?" Tonks looked quickly behind Elizabeth and peered down the hall. "There aren't supposed to be students here. Just the faculty and a few old friends of your father." Elizabeth looked up quickly at this, feeling queasier than ever. "I'm sure Dumbledore would have told me if there were students still here. I'll have to ask him. I'm sorry to keep asking you, Liz, but are you sure you are feeling okay? I know this is a bit of a shock to you. Maybe we rushed into this too fast. Do you want to go to your room and take a kipper?"  
  
Elizabeth made her smile much more convincing and stoutly said, "I'm great. I'm just nervous and exited really. And besides that, I don't think I could sleep a wink right now." Tonks examined her face swiftly and then began to walk forward. "It's not far now," she called over her shoulder. Elizabeth hurried to keep pace with her this time. She couldn't resist taking one more look behind her into the pitch black gathering behind them. Much to her relief, she didn't see any flashes of burning eyes looking back at her.  
  
"Here we are. That was some walk, wasn't it? Well, I don't know about you but I needed the exercise." Tonks laughed and stood before a large statue of a phoenix against the wall. Elizabeth had loved mythology; it was her escape while she was at the orphanage. It always spoke of heroes and witty heroines. She imagined that a hero would come for her someday, lifting her in his arms and carrying her away on a flying horse. Sometimes she would wait patiently by the window and feel the wind in her hair and the look on old Westley's prune face. But I got myself out in the end. The phoenix looked down benevolently on them. Tonks tapped her head impatiently while closing her eyes.  
  
"What was that password again? I'm having one of those nights." She paced the corridor, clicking all the way and muttering. Elizabeth politely admired the phoenix statue and noticed how each feather was intricately carved. It looked almost alive. If she didn't know better, she could have sworn it winked at her. Must be a trick of the light; but then again.. She stood on her tiptoes, squinting up at the giant bird.  
  
"Ah hah, I have it. Cockroach Clusters," Tonks proclaimed grandly, spreading her arms pleadingly towards the bird.  
  
"Ummm...cockroach clusters..."  
  
Elizabeth stopped as the phoenix began to move. It is alive! Or not.. She realized that the phoenix simply turned to reveal a hidden staircase, which was by it pretty wicked. She looked at Tonks who gestured for her to climb up them. Go In Alone? In the dark?! She gulped down her fear (I can't look like a coward. After that whole disappearing guy thing she probably thinks I am spastic) and squaring her shoulders, forced herself to step onto the stairway. Nervously, she felt the staircase rotating upwards and Tonks was cut off from her sight. Panic seized her. Light was filtering up above and then the bloody rotating stairs stopped. What is with this whole stair fixation? She waited, biting her lip and breathing hard. Her suffocation began to wash over her again, melting her muscles along with her resolve. Then the panel slid open, causing her to tumble forward.  
  
After a struggle with the inevitable, she fell on her knees with a thud. An old man with an extremely long beard gazed at her, folding his hands on the desk in front of him. He tilted his head and his spectacles slipped down on his slightly crooked nose. He was studying her. Quickly, she popped up from the ground as if propelled by a spring and brushed herself off. She looked at the rumpled carpet, her face burning with a fierce blush. The wizened old man cleared his throat with a smile.  
  
"Don't worry about that. It happens all the time to the best of us. I've had quite a few introductions like that myself."  
  
She glanced up to see if he was making a jest but his blue eyes were quite kind, shining from his aged face. She couldn't help but instantly contrast them to the flashing eyes of the tall boy.  
  
"Take a seat, Ms. Potter, and make yourself comfortable. I know you had an exciting day to say the least."  
  
She sat down in the chair in front of the desk holding her hands tightly in front of her. Her hands had a mind of their own and gave several tell- tell nervous twitches. She cursed them silently. Meanwhile, he rose and fetched a plate of cookies and a bag of lemon drops. He offered her the plate while placing the bag of candy in the middle of the desk for them to share. Elizabeth nervously had a cookie, her treacherous hands making this simple task quite difficult. Dumbledore looked at her with apparent compassion in his eyes.  
  
"I'm sure you have a great deal of questions. I'll try my best to answer them for you. But first let me say, I'm glad to have you among us again." Elizabeth flushed again. She racked her brain, trying to find an intelligent sounding question.  
  
"Thank you, sir. I was wondering-the question that I have-why was it that I was sent away from here? I mean, I know about-my p-parents."  
  
Her tongue betrayed her and forced her to stutter to stop. She found to her horror that her emotions threatened to rise to the surface. And in front of him to! Dumbledore smiled sadly at her.  
  
"Your parents were particularly dear to me." Then he seemed to stop as well. The silence loomed, threatening to take over. Elizabeth forced herself to look at him straight on; she didn't care about her weak expression and her trembling mouth. This is what she had asked herself for years. Why doesn't anyone want me?  
  
Dumbledore began again. "You father was a hero by the age of one. You looked shocked. He was quite the mystery but he fit the title of hero so well. I regret that you.Your father defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort at the age of one when the Killing Curse rebounded of him and back towards its caster. Harry Potter lost his family that night and lived among muggles for his protection. Voldemort's followers were still free and crazed from the loss of their master. Years later, when your father attended school here, the Dark Lord rose again. It was the darkest times I have ever had to bear. You see, Elizabeth, I had let myself go in the peace time and was not prepared for another time of Darkness. A great war engulfed us all and families were split apart by either death or the choosing of sides. I regret to say I lost hope. But in the end your father came through again and defeated Voldemort. You were born in this time of darkness before his defeat. I believe your birth gave your father strength to continue fighting. In a sense, you saved us." Elizabeth didn't know what to do in response to this unexpected statement. She broke the eye contact and looked away, feeling tears well up.  
  
"I did not expect anything to happen to your family after that. Again I let my guard down. I feel that I let your father down," he confided to Elizabeth's dismay. Her chest froze up, and she scrutinized the man behind the desk. He was not looking at her now. He was gazing up toward the bird in the corner. A real phoenix.  
  
"I am sorry that I can not answer the question you will eventually ask me about your father's death. It is of utter most importance that you must come to face this knowledge yourself." He held up his hand to silence her in mid protest. She felt cheated. How can he sit there and not answer? What is he playing at?  
  
"But I can answer your original question. There are several forces in the wizarding world something you must realize. A group came together to decide what shall become of the girl who lived. Many cared about you and wanted to protect you themselves. Many offered to take you into their homes and raise you as their own child. Some on the other hand saw your father's defeat as a sign of weakness in the present ministry. Your uncle as you may know is the Minister of Magic and was when your father and brother disappeared. He desired to hide you away. I don't want to say he didn't think about your well-being. But it is realistic to say he wanted to put you out of sight to gain control of the public. You might say out of sight out of mind. He started a rather brutal campaign to try and apprehend the suspects. Not even with his brutality could the answers we all sought be found. Meanwhile, you were initially placed with your muggle cousin. However, he formed a resentful mind towards magic, and I found myself without the proper means to protect you. You had magical relatives but they would be unable to defend you from a magical threat. You see, Elizabeth, certain types of extreme dark magic becomes suffocated in the muggle world. The type of attack used on you and your family could not be repeated in the muggle world. The orphanage you were placed in was regulated heavily for your protection," he finished quietly, looking regretful that the situation had ever taken place. This time Elizabeth felt she couldn't hold back her thoughts.  
  
"You watched me? You watched me suffer in that-that (she censored herself) dump? That is ridiculous, selfish, and-and cruel!" She stopped at Dumbledore's expression. His whole face looked worn and desperate. She sat slowly down again, feeling like the most disgusting creature that ever existed. She tried to speak through clenched teeth, muttering, "I'm sorry sir, I understand, but it's so hard."  
  
Everything was in a whirl around her and a little buzz was going off in her head. She easily broke the marks in her palm like she did earlier in the alley; she felt her nails break the skin. But she didn't care. Everything that has happened- and they still don't know! She didn't notice that the desk in front of her was shaking by the force of her magic. Dumbledore was taken back by this powerful display of magic without the use of a wand. The air around them was shimmering with the raw magical energy. He let the girl's ragged breaths cease before he began to speak again. He knew he had to guide her through her acceptance as quickly as possible. The consequences of not doing so would be disastrous for her wellbeing as well as for others. He could not fight away the memory of a young orphaned boy who was so lost that he had met in the past.  
  
"Are you ready for me to continue?" Elizabeth gave a faint nod.  
  
"You must not think that those who care for you didn't feel every pain that you did. I know that is hard to hear, to imagine. But it is the truth. Several of your family members are waiting in the Great Hall as we speak. Your time in the muggle world is over if you chose for it to be. You can start anew here and gain family and friends. It is no less than you deserve. Will you deny yourself that?"  
  
Elizabeth lifted her head. Her look was unfathomable. She could only imagine what her face must look like to bring that expression to his face. Her throat was incredible tight and her words seemed not to fight against her. But she was determined to ask this question.  
  
"Why did my father have children? If he had to face so much and lose so much? How could he do that to us and place us in this horrible situation? If he couldn't be here! Can you answer that?!" She had never hated herself so much as when she spoke those words. The man before her froze; she could tell he never expected such a question. She was in a state that was a mixture of terror, shame, hurt, and defiance. She heard gasps from the sides of the room and turned to find a whole row of frames of the wall. Embarrassed, she turned to Dumbledore. He simply looked at her for a long time, eyes slightly glazed over. It seemed the question had pierced him deeply. He took a deep breath and answered.  
  
"Your father was a hero because he never stopped hoping-for a better future and for a family. He defeated the Dark Lord for his children. He wanted them to have what he never could. The greatest thing about him was that he wanted to love. What happened in the end was beyond his control. But didn't he deserve to hope?"  
  
Silence did engulf them then, and they welcomed it. Elizabeth couldn't stop gripping the arms of the chair. I can't believe I said that? Why did I say that? I can't look this man in the face ever again. I should just go back and leave this alone. She felt impure; she realized the minute she saw him that Dumbledore was a kind and great man. He just gave her this feeling of safety. It was because of this sense of security her emotions overwhelmed her. Now she was ashamed. If this chair became alive and started to eat me, I would be so relieved. I'm not worthy to be here. Dumbledore cleared his throat, and she jumped slightly. He gave her another one of his kind looks. She could hardly bear it.  
  
"You have every right to these feelings, Elizabeth. Don't think I don't understand. In fact, I deserve your anger."  
  
Please chair, come alive!  
  
"The release of such feelings washes us anew, don't you think. You can truly have a new beginning. I know it will be hard but the good things are worth it."  
  
She just stared at him with her face a new shade of red.  
  
He ventured to confirm the ending of their rather unproductive conversation, "Do you have anything else to ask or say?" Elizabeth was about to shake her head no but stopped herself. She was more ashamed by the squeak of a voice that came out of her mouth.  
  
"Can I come to this school-to Hogwarts?" Dumbledore smiled at her.  
  
"Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way."  
  
He rose up, and she distinctly noticed how tall he was especially in the state she was in.  
  
"It would be best if you got some rest to collect yourself from your journey. I'll tell the guests in the Great Hall they will have to wait until tomorrow. I do hope they don't riot."  
  
He quickly walked to the door, and Elizabeth hurried after him to get away from the whispering portraits. He sure does move fast for someone his age. Together they waited for the rotating stairwell to take them to Tonks. Elizabeth still couldn't look at Dumbledore. Standing besides each other, she was even shorter than usual because of her slumping. Tonks met them outside. She looked from one to the other and grinned nervously. She could sense the tension and could see Elizabeth's tear-streaked face.  
  
"Tonks, take Elizabeth to her room for the night. On second thought, take her to Madame Pomfrey; she no doubt has something to help her sleep from her excitement." With that, Dumbledore's tall figure departed swiftly down the hall.  
  
Tonks wrapped an arm around Elizabeth in a motherly fashion and steered her toward the hospital wing. Elizabeth didn't pay attention to where they were going. Her mind was still trapped in the moment before and the horrible words that escaped her mouth from her soul. They kept playing in her head. Why did my father have children? How Dare He Do That To Us?! Then...That is ridiculous, selfish, and cruel. She wanted to cry again but she had no tears left. Would he tell what was left of my family what I said? He wouldn't, right? I really don't feel that way. Not really. It was just his presence and the shock of this world. It isn't me! It can't be.  
  
It seemed she did have tears left. Her face was freshly wet again. Her side hurt with a vengeance. I deserve it. She just listened to the clicking of Tonk's heels down the hall. Just focus on making it to wherever. She was maneuvered into a room of white complete with several beds along the wall. An agitated older woman appeared in a flutter of movement. It was like a trip to the past. Her outfit shocked Elizabeth out of her stupor. She was almost camouflaged in her surrounds except for her large brown eyes and cupid bow mouth.  
  
"Yes, yes, what has happened?" she quipped rapidly at them, looking agitated. Tonks raised a hand to stem her rapid flow of words.  
  
"This is Elizabeth Potter. She will be staying at HogWartyWarts for awhile. She just needs some Dreamless Sleep Potion so she can rest." The woman's mouth parted slightly at Elizabeth's name and grabbed her elbow firmly.  
  
"You look simply dreadful, dear. Lie down." Seeing as it wasn't a request, Elizabeth hastily laid back on the stark sheets.  
  
"It is simply to cold to have a little girl dressed like that." Madam Pomfrey lectured Tonks while she swept around the room. Watching her movements worsened Elizabeth's headache. Tonks contented herself by muttering about summer time and paranoid nurses but was silenced by Madam Pomfrey's narrowed eyes which made her look like a bird of prey. Madam Pomfrey handed Elizabeth a very suspicious drink. It was suspicious because it was smoking slightly.  
  
"Go on. Drink it down. That's it. Now, Nymphadora (Tonks winced), I know someone will think they're clever and sneak up here but I won't condone it. I expect you to tell them all. This girl has got to get some rest or she'll catch a dragon of a cold simply from exhaustion."  
  
Tonks agreed and came over to say goodnight. Elizabeth was glad that Tonks came closer out of the earshot of the hyperactive healthcare giver. She leaned over self-consciously and whispered, " Tonks, could you do me a favor?"  
  
"Sure, be glad to!"  
  
"Don't tell Dumbledore about that-guy I thought I saw."  
  
Tonks looked troubled by this entry into secrecy especially from Dumbledore. "I don't know..."  
  
"Please, he was probably just a figment of my imagination or something. I don't want him to think badly of me." Elizabeth grimaced, realizing she had said too much.  
  
Tonks patted her on the back. "Dumbledore could never think badly of you, Lizzy. You're a sweet girl. I promise I won't mention it though. We'll keep it between us as friends, right!"  
  
Tonks smiled and waved goodnight. Madam Pomfrey closed the door behind her and recited a couple of Blocking Spells just in case. Soon she dimmed the lamps and disappeared from sight. Elizabeth fought a losing battle against the sleep that was overcoming her. Her mind flashed for the boy to Dumbledore to her father. It was like wandering through an extremely hazardous wilderness. You're a sweet girl. Really, deep down, Elizabeth hoped she was. It was the way her feelings overcame her that scared her so. As she closed her eyes and snuggled into the blankets around her, she couldn't forget the image of that boy's eyes. It was if his soul was on fire. Is that why I can see him? Because I feel my soul is on fire as well. Elizabeth's whole being gave a forceful shove away from the last thought. She just hoped she wouldn't wake up to see garnet eyes burning her with their gaze. 


	4. Lazarus 3:Darkness on the Horizon

Chapter 3: Darkness on the Horizon  
  
"A balance of good and bad is the doorway to destiny."  
A Japanese Proverb  
  
Here's some links to some info to the story for alabaster marble shimmered under the moonlight. It shone forth from among the dark, grasping branches and was pleasant to her sight. It was an otherworldly gateway among earthbound roots. Nearby was a cave adorned in leaves that were made pale by the blue light. The darkness from within the cave crept forth like a sly creature hunting its prey. It was held in check by the light reflecting off the haze of the cold marble. A glove clinging to skeleton thin fingers darted forward into her view to brush away clinging spider webs and stray leaves. In Memory of Harry James Potter the Boy Who Lived to be the Man Who Saved Us All  
  
The hand traced the etched words and then retracted as if burned, and the figure stood in the swirling darkness. Huge partly because of the robes and the height of the figure, it cast a shadow over the monument, erasing the words from sight. The figure turned slightly. It knew it was being watched. Please Don't Turn Around! The robes full of midnight purple swirls and runes poured over the person's body onto the sinking ground that also held shapes.  
  
Whispers were all around in the trees, in the shadows, and in her mind. Her skin prickled in her tension. Something was tangible in this place. What is it? The ground seemed to be humming, shaking her frame and the air around her. Her breath misted into shapes, even words and then vanished in the thick air.  
  
Words hung from the trees, little pieces of parchment on strings in a crude mockery of the leaves. Thurisaz. Reversed Ansuz .Reversed Kenaz. Reversed Tiwaz.  
  
On the other side of the spectrum- Wunjo. Kenaz. Tiwaz. Algiz. Sowilo.Mannaz. Tying them all together was Perthro, written in gold script. Below this one was a blank rune, swirling in the wind. Choose...  
  
The figure stepped away from the blackened monument, and the words that had been changed blazed up at her. In Memory of Elizabeth Faye Potter the Girl Who Lived to be The Woman to Curse Us All  
  
The figure turned around to face her; a hush fell from the trees. The face was darkened, unknowable. The pieces of white paper remained frozen in time except for the blank paper that continued to move in sequence with the rasping breath of the hooded mystery. A gloved hand removed the hood. The thrill of horror she felt now overshadowed any she had ever felt before. She opened her mouth with a scream struggling to come out. I know...  
  
Elizabeth snapped her eyes open, throwing off her covers. Her body was drenched in sweat, not an uncommon state. However, she had never had this dream before. Biting her lips, she looked around, rapidly rubbing away the goose bumps on her arms. She thanked the flickering lamps that warmed the white room. She was momentarily confused about the moving curtains around her. Then the events from the last few hours filtered through her confusion.  
  
It was a grating process that was almost painful in its languid movement. She crossed her knees and nervously picked at the stray threads from the covers. She was thankful she hadn't yelled out and caused a disturbance. Dreamless sleep, feh! She realized her dream was flowing away from her, slipping out of her grip. She grasped her face with her cold hands and struggled to remember. For the most part, it had already fled into her subconscious. Burned into her closed eyelids was the golden word perthro. That was the only thing she remembered except for a flash of the most blinding, pure white. Though that may be because of the whiteness of the room she was currently occupying. She didn't know how she knew that word perthro. She knew she had seen it somewhere before. The memory was locked tightly from her, a far away secret.  
  
I wish I had asked Dumbledore why I can't remember my family or that night. Why didn't I ask?  
  
She thought she remembered her mother and father. They were images of ghosts wrapped in her memories that wandered in and out of sight.  
  
Didn't I have a brother though? What about him? She knew she had been too flustered to ask the correct questions when she had had the opportunity. She then became angry at herself and sighed. A fragrant smell reached her that aroused her from her mental ranting, and she looked out of the corner of eyes.  
  
She didn't like the motions of the curtains around her. Hands on the curtains. She ripped apart the curtains as silk caught on her chewed-on nails. Nothing there. She got up cautiously from the bed with her feet comforted by the warmed floor from a spell she suspected. Tiptoeing towards the doors, she grasped the handles and pushed on the doors. It refused to yield to her. She investigated the rest of the room and occasionally tripped on her overlarge pajamas. Ornate wooden cabinets were full of all sorts of what she assumed where potions. Skelegrow. Lypasis of Sleep. Madam Nostrum's All Instant Boil Relief. Fang Shrinkage.  
  
She went to the windows and saw that the new day was rearing its head out from behind the trees. Looking down on the vast grounds, she saw a greenhouse with a ceiling covered in moving greenery. Little balls of blue and pink zoomed around the glass which shimmered like liquid in the morning glow. A wooden hut mounted on stones stood guard by the entrance of the forest amassed with wisps of haze. It had a fence where a few shadows were slinking about out of sight. She thought she saw an odd assortment of limbs like jagged wings cutting through the darkness.  
  
Shaking her head, she decided to go back to bed and retrieved the tangled covers from behind the posts of the bed. Straightening the bed the best she could, she positioned herself and traced the figures on the headboard. The figures depicted a golden bird rising from the ashes of burning fire with rays of light and smoke following its tail. She fell asleep with her fingertips brushing the raised up feathers of the phoenix. She was awoken hours later by a hand shaking her shoulder lightly. She let a whine slip through her dry lips and tightened her grip on her pillow.  
  
"Come on, Lizzy. Don't you want some breakfast?" Tonks inquired gently.  
  
In response to Tonks's voice above her, she turned around and was blinded by a combination of her own tangled red hair and Tonks's violet tresses. She blinked sluggishly as her eyelashes were caught by her strains of red. The sunlight turned the room bright and her hair golden. She imagined her head probably looked like it was on fire. Fun. She sat up in the bunched up covers with her feet sticking out and looked up at Tonks whose hair was rapidly changing. Woah. Am I still asleep?  
  
Tonks giggled at her expression. She said slyly, "I am Metamorphmagus. I like to be spontaneous sometimes. It's a new day ahead and all with old friends. How do you like my look?" Her hair was blond and long now, and she was taller. She had retained her violet eyes.  
  
"You look great," Elizabeth replied sincerely. "How did you learn to do that?" She was a little bit envious of Tonks's skill.  
  
"Sorry, Liz. I was born with this skill. It makes up for me tripping over myself," Tonks explained with a swish of her golden locks.  
  
Elizabeth got up and met her image in a mirror across from her. Ewww. Her hair darted every which way and her clothes hung off of her. I look like a bum. I'm going to scare everyone and ruin breakfast.  
  
Tonks understood her grimace and said quickly, "Your grandmother brought you some of your mother's old clothes. I think they'll fit you. I thought you'd like to meet our friends at Hogsmeade. It'll make a great atmosphere. You'll love it. You'll be seeing the Great Hall quite often anyway."  
  
Tonks handed her some clothing and left to let her change. Elizabeth spread the clothes out on the bed and stepped back to examine them. A green shirt which dipped down with long sleeves that belled out intertwined with thread. It reminded her of the Renaissance. Thank goodness it has long sleeves. Then there was a black shirt with green leaves on the side.  
  
What caught her eye was a golden necklace among the garments. Picking the fragile chain up gently, she realized it was a phoenix locket. She opened it trembling, and she saw the eyes of her parents gazing up at her. To Gin. Thanks for being by my side. Our love will last forever. We'll rise together. Love, Harry. The words began to blur. Elizabeth hastily wiped the tears pooling in her eyes. She felt light scratches on the back of the necklace and flipped it over. To Lily. Love James.  
  
She stood in the room as time flew by unnoticed. She held the necklace reverently in the middle of her cupped palms. It seems so fragile. She went to the mirror and did the clasp of the necklace. Her green eyes glistened back at her as she touched the necklace lying in the indention of her neck. I'll never take it off.  
  
The mirror, rudely ruining the moment, squawked at her, "Dear, do hurry and get dressed. And do something about your hair. It's simply in tangles!"  
  
A startled Elizabeth jumped back and sprang into action. She hastily discarded her pajamas and changed, jumping on one leg. She tied the boots (which just didn't seem to want to tie) that came along with the outfit. She searched the drawers for a brush or comb or anything.  
  
The mirror hissed at her, "In the drawer, child. In the drawer!"  
  
Casting a dark look at the condescending mirror, she drew out a comb and tried to ease out the hair tangled by wind and sleep. She spied a hair tie lying hidden on the bed and tied up her hair. That's much better. Wiping her sweaty palms on the bed sheets, she opened the unbarred door and stepped into the hall.  
  
Tonks accosted her, cooing about how much she reminded her of Lily Potter. Then she led her down the halls and into the main hall. No candles were floating this morning and the armor remained blessedly inanimate. The grand doors with took up half the wall opened, and the scent of summer entered the castle that warmed the floors and ancient tapestries. Tonks and Elizabeth hurried down the steps, Elizabeth taking two at a time. She looked around excitedly, noting the archways and gargoyles lining them. She longed to explore and discover what was down those worn corridors, but she restrained herself.  
  
Then she saw a looming figure ambling toward them out of the shadows. The figure's face was covered in a thick beard, but Elizabeth was really too busy noting how tall this guy was. Everything was dwarfed around him and a hunched dog that made up two of her trailed along behind him. He carried a cross bow in his hairy boulder of a hand. Oh My God. She tried to conceal herself behind Tonks as swiftly as possible, but her attempts were futile.  
  
Tonks beamed at the giant, waving him over with a yell, "Oi, Hagrid. Course, you're coming to Hogsmeade with us! Put away that muggle thing-a-ma- gig and hurry up!"  
  
The man reached them in two steps and haphazardly threw the crossbow to the side. Elizabeth followed its progress with her eyes and let them remain on it, lying threateningly among the blades of grass. She almost fell down as a huge hand slapped her on the back.  
  
"Merlin's beard!" the giant bellowed. "This is her, then? O'course, yeh are. Rubeus Hagrid, pleased to meet yeh."  
  
Hagrid seized her hand and shook it vigorously, lifting her off the ground in the process. Judging by Tonks's open face, Elizabeth realized that the intimidating man meant them no harm and was in fact friendly. Very Friendly!  
  
"Er, yeah, I'm her, I mean-I'm Elizabeth," she managed to choke out. She hazarded a guess that that's what he meant. The ruddy man beamed down at her, his eyes crinkling behind his beard.  
  
"Yer the spittin' image of little Lily. I 'member her scampering around. Heh. Off to meet the others?" Hagrid directed his attention to Tonks who responded with an affirmative.  
  
"Wouldn't be at the Three Broomsticks, would it?" Hagrid's restrained voice didn't hide his apparent excitement.  
  
"That it is, Hagrid! I know what you're thinking," said Tonks slyly as she winking at him mischievously.  
  
Hagrid stuttered, "That's not it at all, 'onestly. Olympe would have a ruddy fit, she 'ould. 'Ave to be a 'ponsible parent, yeh know. Yep. I 'ust became a dad."  
  
"Oh, congratulations!" Elizabeth replied politely.  
  
Hagrid boasted loudly, "Just like yer dad, yeh are! Little Gred would love fer yer to visit 'em. The 'ittle tyke! Grawp plays with 'em alot, but its 'ust not the same, yeh know."  
  
Elizabeth wondered just how little this tyke was, judging by the size of his father. She agreed though, and Hagrid was alight with happiness. The strange trio started down the path with Elizabeth having to jog to keep up with the adults. They talked among themselves about what Elizabeth assumed was current events in the wizarding world. Hagrid let something slip about Death Eaters (Elizabeth shivered at the name), but Tonks silenced him with a look.  
  
He hastily changed the subject, "Eh, Elizabeth. Yeh know I'm a teacher here? I 'ow teach me class to first years and 'econd years. Care of Magical Creatures! Dumbledore decided me class was too 'mportant not be 'aught earlier on."  
  
"I'll look forward to it," she said sincerely. What kind of creatures could this Hagrid cook up to show them? Hagrid began to talk rapidly in his excitement. Elizabeth could harldy under stand him.  
  
He sputtered out, "I was "hinkin about startin' off with some griffins. Friendly yeh know. 'Airly interesting, 'ight?" Hagrid looked at her for approval.  
  
"Um, sounds like it," said Elizabeth with some hesitation. Griffins?  
  
They reached massive iron gates. Tonks crossed to a gargoyle and whispered something in its pointy ear. It gave a squeak, and the gates swung open. Beyond it was a village that looked like something out of Dr. Seuss. It was quaint and warm and had all sorts of scents welcome them. Elizabeth let out a squeal of excitement despite herself that made her companions chuckle. This is bloody amazing! She began to lead the way practically running through the summer breeze, causing her hair coming undone. As she stopped to wait for the huffing adults, she looked around at the village. To her right was a pink shoppe with the words written in hearts Madam Puddifoot's and a door with a quaint little bell on top. Graffiti littered the ground by the door. She squinted; she thought she saw a darting naked cupid inside. No, no...don't be silly. That's a bit too rich.  
  
Tonks sighed whimsically behind her, "Ah, Madam Puddifoots. That brings back fond memories."  
  
Elizabeth began to walk further in the village. She wasn't alone. A maze of multicolored cloaks and chatter greeted her as they traveled to and fro from shop to shop with bells ringing continuously. She had reached the main street. Two men debated something heavily in front of Dervish and Bangs; one man waved a broomstick with a broken tail haughtily in the other's ruddy face. Laughter reached her ears, and she turned to find a group of youth in front of Zonko's. That's some name. Sparks and crackles came from inside the clustered group of cloaks. A chicken sped out from between the teenagers' legs, flapping its wings and clucking madly. Its escape was hindered by a dark blue cloak dragging behind it. It was pursued by a roguish blond guy who looked rather flustered. Sort of handsome!  
  
"Charles, I was just kidding around, mate! Come back!" He launched himself through the air and grabbed Charles the Chicken.  
  
Elizabeth hurried past the whirl of feathers and yelps. Tonks pointed out Honeydukes and promised to take Elizabeth by later on. They finally reached their destination, slightly worn out. On a hill overlooking the village was a leaning shack with boarded up windows. An overgrown garden gave warning to any foolhardy person. Abandon all hope ye who enter here. She paused outside the wooden, old-time looking Three Broomsticks. Upbeat voices resounded from inside and the clanking of glasses.  
  
Tonks placed a hand on her shoulder. "We rented out the place for an hour or two. Madam Rosmerta was happy to do it. She insisted that drinks be on the house. It will just be us and close friends."  
  
Elizabeth gulped and nodded quickly, fingers unconsciously traveling up to clutch her necklace. The feeling of the wings of the phoenix gave her some comfort. She fidgeted and checked her hair while smoothing down her clothes. Hagrid came up from behind, looking anxious to get in and get down to business. Elizabeth took a deep breath and opened the door.  
  
A large company waited around a wooden table with drinks in hand. They grew silent and looked up expectantly, collectively holding their breaths. A gray haired woman in pink heels peered around the bar curiously and looked Elizabeth up and down. The room seemed very crowded due to the mirror on the wall reflecting the crowd two-fold. Elizabeth met their gazes with massive butterflies in her stomach. She felt a nudge in the small of her back, and she ventured in further. The majority were an assortment of red- heads in all different shades. A gray-haired man, thick-haired brunette, a brunette freckled kid about her age, a breathtaking blond woman, and a small black woman contrasted strongly against their companions.  
  
A sniffle rose broke the silence, and Elizabeth blinked. A short woman with white hair threatening to wash away the red stood up shakily. It seemed like Elizabeth blinked again, and then she was engulfed in a huge hug, feeling her mother's shirt getting damp from the tears of her grandmother. A balding man attempted to pry her arms apart.  
  
"Molly, dear, don't startle the poor girl. There, there," murmured the faded man who Elizabeth assumed was her grandfather.  
  
Mrs. Weasley, weeping openly, released her bear hug and contented herself by holding Elizabeth's hands tightly.  
  
"I'm sorry, dear, I'm so emotional today," Mrs. Weasley sobbed. "It's been so long since I've held you in my arms. Just look at you. You're all grown- up. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to be a proper grandmother to you."  
  
Elizabeth was at a lost for words. She wished she could say something reassuring that could soothe the older woman, but she found her mind had been a blank slate. It seemed she was trying to cross of river of sorrow. Her only response was her own tears.  
  
"Oy, isn't this supposed to be a cheerful occasion? Cut the waterworks before we all drown, and sit down, stay awhile," said a freckled man who emphasized his cheerful words by patting the seat next to him encouragingly.  
  
Molly led Elizabeth to the chair and returned to her own as she continued staring at Elizabeth with ineffable joy. There was a brief moment of confusion as room was made for Hagrid. Madam Rosmerta floated over with a whole round of drinks. She placed a butterbeer dramatically in front of Elizabeth. Elizabeth was thankful for something to keep her hands busy.  
  
"I think introductions are in order," announced the same vastly freckled and burly man. "I'm Fred, and this is Angelina, my wife. And that's my brother, George. He's my twin. You might have noticed." George nodded and gave her a cheerful wave.  
  
Fred continued to introduce everyone as an ice-breaker, "That lanky fellow over there is my little brother, Ronald. ("Don't fidget so, Ron.") That's Hermione, married to said brother, and she's going to be your professor for this year. Exciting, eh? ("Lucky us," the freckled kid commented). That's Michael, their little or not so little bundle of joy whose currently sinking under the table. ("Michael, straighten up.") That's me older bro, Bill, treasurer-hunter extraordinare and all-around good-guy. (My other older brother, Charlie all-around good guy number two, couldn't come today. Fighting with dragons, he is. He's coming tomorrow.") The lovely Madam Fleur who is as hard as it is too believe spouse to all-around good guy. That there is the master of Defense Against the Dark Arts a.k.a Remus Lupin. He's also a professor this year. You're getting some connections here, Elizabeth. You're never too young for that, eh? That's my dear dad, Arthur. I guess you can call him gramps. And then the matriarch of the Weasley Clan, Molly Weasley, (Man, mum, it's awkward calling you Molly. I need to cleanse my mouth now.). Well, that's the introductions bit. Any comments, questions, or protests?"  
  
Fred was interrupted by Hermione, "How are you, Elizabeth? I hear you had a hard journey here. This must be a shock for you. I know it was for me. I came from a muggle family."  
  
Michael piped up excitedly, "Yeah, I heard you flew a muggle bed around buzzing some muggles. That's bloody brilliant! Can you teach me?" He got a jab in the side from his mother with a sharp hiss of hush.  
  
"That was quite an impressive display of magic," said Professor Lupin.  
  
The worn man smiled pleasantly at Elizabeth. She noticed dark circles hung under his glazed, amber eyes. He looked older than anyone else at the table, including Arthur Weasley. Little flecks of brown peered through the mass of gray hair that hung around his face. He still managed to study her intently with a look of recognition though she was sure she had never seen him before in her life. His presence brought forth the image of mystery as well as tragedy.  
  
"Of course, she gets it from the Weasley side. That was some classic Weasley action, that was," Fred stated, gesturing towards all the red-heads present at the table.  
  
"You remind me so much of my Ginny," Mrs. Weasley whispered in a glazed voice. "Those clothes are perfect for you. And I see you've found the necklace. I thought you'd like it."  
  
Everyone turned at once to observe the necklace, and Elizabeth smiled timidly.  
  
"I love it. Thank you. I won't take it off again," she said with her voice overflowing with unfamiliar emotion. She was honestly surprised at herself. Her experience in the muggle world had taught her that displaying one's emotions so openly was a weakness.  
  
Mrs. Weasley's eyes watered up instantily, and Mr. Weasley patted her arm comfortingly.  
  
Fred took a great sip of Butterbeer and winked at her.  
  
He asked, "How do you like Hogsmeade? Though my flavor is Diagon Alley. I plan to have you see it before your term starts, you know. George and I own a joke shop, Weasley Wizard Wheezes! You deserve a first-hand tour."  
  
Michael perked up when he heard this last bit.  
  
Ron, upon noting his son, said, "Liz, me and Hermione planned to take Michael tomorrow to get his wand. Love for you to come with us. Everyone knows that getting your wand is the best part of being a wizard."  
  
"Nah, it's the Quidditch, Ron!" George exclaimed confidently as he whacked his younger brother on the back of the head. "I bet Liz here is a natural at flying."  
  
"I'd say," Tonks laughed. "She handled flying like a pro. She should have been born with wings."  
  
Elizabeth went to bed that night with the promise of Diagon Alley echoing in her mind. My own wand! Imagine what I could do with my very own wand!! She touched the phoenix lightly, looking up at the lion carved above her bed. She had the whole Gryffindor dormitories to herself. Although she initially didn't care for the rooms adorned with Red, she grew to love this shade. It was warm and reminded her of her new found family. She sank into the golden covered bed with a glow on her face. Candles rotated slowly in the air as they floated around her bed. She became sleepy just watching them continue their silent dance.  
  
Tonks had understood her loathing of the dark.  
  
"I don't like the dark either. That digs up memories I'm not too fond of," Tonks said gravely, not willing to go into detail on the matter.  
  
Elizabeth gave no thought to the mysterious boy with the flashing eyes. It was like it never had happened but remained with her, affecting her in ways she would not come to know until later. It was a bad taste she couldn't shake. Yet her family's joy and offer of companionship washed away the emotional upheaval left from yesterday. I have a family who cares about me.  
  
Warmth fell over her in waves. As her eyes drifted to sleep, she wasn't haunted by red eyes or cold hands. She woke up the next morning chill-free. No nightmares had scarred her with their claws, and she had never had a better morning. She got dressed in a record amount of time. She tied up her hair as she did yesterday and bounced down the stairs. Tonks was waiting for her in the common room with her usual violet look.  
  
Tonks answered Elizabeth's questioning eyes, "This just suits me best. You look perky this morning, Liz. Good nights sleep, I reckon."  
  
"Yeah, I slept like a rock."  
  
"Good to hear. Hermione insists that you come to their house first for breakfast. Though I'd be careful if I were you. Hermione's the most brilliant witch I have ever met, but she isn't exactly a whiz in the kitchen. You'll be going by Floo Powder. You'll have a better time with it than Portkeys," Tonks said wisely.  
  
I certainly hope so.  
  
Tonks used her wand to start a good crackling fire in the hearth and then poured in a sparkling powder from a small bag. Elizabeth jumped back as the fire roared up, turning a mixture of purple and blue.  
  
"Jump on in, Liz," Tonks gestured towards the blue fire.  
  
"Jump...into the fire?" sputtered Elizabeth. Surely she hadn't heard Tonks correctly.  
  
"Don't worry. It's completely fool proof, I promise. Travel by it all the time. Just keep up hands close by your sides. Oh, and shut your eyes. There's tons of soot up in there. Do that, and you'll be as right as rain! Just say clearly Weasley-Granger residence, right oh!" Tonks winked at her reassuringly.  
  
Elizabeth did not want Tonks to think that she didn't trust her. Gritting her teeth and closing her eyes tightly, she stepped into the fire and spoke as clearly as possible although the soot bothered her nose immensely. Despite the warnings, her eyes flew open as she started to spin within the flames. Tonks's violet weaved in and out of her sight until it was just a blur.  
  
Nausea attacked her instantly, and she closed her eyes. She felt winds roar by her, rustling her clothes. Her necklace kept hitting her in the mouth. There goes my hair again and the tie... She cracked open her eyes through her hair and saw fireplaces zooming by her. Faces flashed in and out of the hearths; someone thought to give her a cheery wave. She burst through the fireplace as soot flew in all directions and showered the inhabitants of the household.  
  
Michael stifled a laugh at the sight of an extremely sooty Elizabeth and Hermione. Ron peered over the top of the paper he was reading with amusement. Isn't there a tidier way to travel in the wizarding world? Bugger, my outfit... Hermione helped her to her feet and with a quick wave of her wand ("Scourify"), not a trace of the soot remained. Elizabeth fed off each display of magic and desired more; it was addictive. I can't wait for my wand!  
  
It was by far the best house Elizabeth had ever been in. She suspected it stood on magic alone. Clocks ticked from every direction while gold sparks hung in the air. It was built from beautiful, rich wood that gave the home off a pleasant fragrance. Dishes clanked in the sink as they dutifully washed themselves.  
  
As soon as an unsuspecting Hermione turned her back, Ron raised his wand from under his shirt cuffs, and the food on the plate she had served them disappeared. Michael raised his finger to his lips and gave Elizabeth a pointed look. Hermione gasped in delight; everyone always loved her dishes. They finished their breakfast so quickly.  
  
Breakfast was a quick affair, and the group used Floo Powder one more time. After being thoroughly Scourified, Michael and Elizabeth wandered through the crowds. Michael bombarded her with questions. She never had so much positive attention before. This too was addicting.  
  
"When's you're birthday, El?" Michael asked in a friendly tone as if he had known her his whole life.  
  
"August 4," answered a shy Elizabeth as she fiddled nervously with the loose threads on her robes.  
  
"Mine's April 11. What's the muggle world like? We visit my muggle grandparents sometimes, but it's really not the same as living there."  
  
"I kind of didn't have a good view of it while I was there. It's probably full of nice people. I dunno..." Elizabeth couldn't find a single could thing to say about the muggle world. She was relieved when Michael shot out another row of questions.  
  
"Looking forward to Uncle Fred's and George's joke shop?" he said in a loud voice that carried far and wide, making heads swivel in their direction. "I heard it's wicked! What house do you think you'll be in?"  
  
"Um..house?" That sounded familiar.  
  
"Yeah, Hogwart's house," Michael answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
"Oh yeah!" Elizabeth hurried to save face. "I'm staying in the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts!"  
  
"Lucky you!" he exclaimed in envy. "Is it nice?"  
  
"I bet it's the nicest common room in the whole place," Elizabeth gushed with confidence.  
  
"Man, I hope I'm in Gryffindor. You know that whole family is," Michael informed her. "You're dad was in Gryffindor too. I'd never come home again if I put in Slytherin or Hufflepuff!"  
  
Elizabeth was taken back by the harshness of his declaration. Isn't that a bit prejudiced? She commented lightly, "I'm sure your parents will be proud either way. I am just glad to be going to Hogwarts."  
  
Michael shrugged and said gruffly, "That's true. But there wasn't a witch or wizard that went bad that wasn't in Slytherin. I've got hold up the family standard here. Anyway Mums got pregnant..."  
  
"Really, I can't tell," she responded in surprise and quirked up one eyebrow that quickly blended in with her hair.  
  
The same Hermione looked lean and trim. She was practically glowing at old acquaintances that happened to pass them by. To be sure, she didn't act at all like a nervous, soon-to-be mother.  
  
"I've just found out. I have to be a role model for my little brother. Now I really have to be in Gryffindor," Michael stated with a tone of finality.  
  
"What does your dad do?" asked a curious Potter. I'm interested in what I can do in this world.  
  
Michael swelled up in pride. Elizabeth quickly realized that this was the question he had been waiting for her to ask.  
  
He answered her in an even louder voice, "He's an Auror. Catches all the bad wizards he does. He caught Malfoy's cousin in with the Death Eaters a few weeks ago. Talk about a bad bunch. Malfoy claims he has nothing to do with them. Yeah right! But Dad showed them."  
  
Michael beamed with pride while he spoke, and his blue eyes sparkled. Elizabeth knew he would be in Gryffindor. He was too bold to go anywhere else. Every move he made resounded with confidence and seemed to affect everyone around him. She admired him. But when he mentioned Houses, she grew nervous. What if I'm not in Gryffindor? What will they think? Harry Potter's daughter..a Slytherin! It might just make the Wizarding News. She decided to change the subject. Something had been bothering her since her trip to Hogsmeade.  
  
"Hey, Michael, what are Death Eaters?" Elizabeth asked with determination. She was going to find out one way or another.  
  
"Oh, they're what's left of Voldemort's little group." His tone was thick in tangible disgust and accompanied by a curled lip. "Though it's really not that little. They're still about causing trouble, messing with the minds of muggles, and spreading general chaos. Yech. But we're catching the rest of them. You'd think for Slytherins they'd be more-crafty like."  
  
Now I have to be in Gryffindor. What pressure...Her chest felt burdened again. She had assumed her family wouldn't care what house she was in judging by their attitude. Now she wasn't sure at all. Would Michael talk to me again if I was in another house?  
  
Hermione's voice carried back to the pair. "Michael, Elizabeth, do hurry. We have a lot to do. Stick to the schedule, please. It should be speaking and being more helpful than that. I'm positive I cast the right charm."  
  
Sensing the oncoming tirade, Michael quickly interrupted, "Oh, they're fine, Mum. No worries."  
  
He had stuffed the schedules tightly in his pocket to muffle the annoying voice. It was really quite a horrible, little voice. Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions loomed in front of them. Elizabeth walked in first, followed by Michael who was dragging his feet. The stout, gray haired woman with spectacles floated around them, bringing robes with dust flying everywhere. Even Hermione's seemingly endless patience was tried. Her smile grew more forced with every piece of garment that hit the floor.  
  
The measuring tape flew buzzing around like an insect, and one had to be very still to avoid having a nasty paper cut. She met some of her future classmates through the ordeal. Josephine Finch-Fletchley seemed like a very nice but a bit on the shy side. She too hoped for Gryffindor although her father was formerly a Hufflepuff. She also was very concerned about her classes especially Care of Magical Creatures. Elizabeth tried to reassure her by mentioning the griffins; Michael was exited, but Josephine looked less than thrilled.  
  
Elizabeth also met the Finnigan girl whose first name was Sandy, and it was a name Elizabeth wouldn't forget as it fit her well. She had more freckles than Michael could ever dream of having. Her brown eyes and hair also made her name memorable. Elizabeth loved her smile; she was like Michael in that respect. She whistled the funniest songs through the gaps she had in her teeth that provided entertainment for her peers. She was so lively, making Madam Malkin a nervous wreck. The madam's hair had fallen from its bun which hung by her face in tatters. She hunched about darkly, muttering about how she was too old for this job and eying the children. Elizabeth thought for one moment that madam, fed up with the chatter, would chew off the mole on the side of her mouth and spit it at them.  
  
Madam Malkin was left leaning against the desk in relief as group of early shoppers left the store. Elizabeth enjoyed listening to the memories shared between Hermione and Sandy's dad. Apparently Gryffindor was the most exciting house of the lot. Certainly the Gryffindors had spirit. More than anything, Elizabeth wanted to be with her new friends when she got to Hogwarts. She didn't know what she would do if they were separated.  
  
Michael wouldn't hear of visiting Flourish and Blotts before getting his wand. It was some tense moment as mother faced off against son. Then, Michael insisted they go to lunch afterwards.  
  
Hermione appeared to be jolted and stopped in mid-stride. "Michael, you just ate!" she hissed, reminding Elizabeth of an irate cat.  
  
Uncle Ron had wandered off somewhere along the way. Hermione took note off that, and Elizabeth realized he might not have to use his wand to vanish his food tonight. Most likely, he won't get any at all. Michael burst through Ollivanders like a man on a mission. Elizabeth was on his heels and bumped into him as he stopped suddenly.  
  
The strangest man she had ever seen sat at the front of the store as if he was expecting them specifically. He was paler than parchment and looked as old as some too. His eyes were gleaming with silver. He looked blind at first but you knew distinctly that he could see you. He offered them a strange smile with those tortoise lips which Michael tried to return but failed.  
  
Hermione huffed up behind them, clutching her chest slightly.  
  
"Goodness me, the both of you are so hyper. Oh, hello Mr. Ollivander. How are you? It's been awhile," Hermione said, wheezing.  
  
"But I remember it as if it was yesterday. Ten inches, birch, moonbeam thistle core. Quite interesting mix. Well-Rounded and strong," Ollivander said with a bit of a self- confident smirk.  
  
"Yes, that's correct," whispered a thoroughly impressed Hermione.  
  
"Of course it is. But your son looks he'd prefer unicorn hair to me. Just my impression. Or perhaps dragonheart string..It's in the Weasley family to be sure," he stated matter-of-factly as he began to rummage through the mountain of boxes.  
  
Michael made a funny face at his mum, and she returned it. Elizabeth fought the urge to laugh. An outburst of laughter seemed inappropriate for the moment. He emerged some time later, wobbling along. Michael looked eager despite his initial uneasiness. I wish I was as brave as he was.  
  
Ollivander fiddled with the box and succeeded in opening it with creaking fingers covered with white fuzz. His very essence was one of dust and ages of time, making her think of old libraries and attics. Hermione sneezed behind them and excused herself with some mild embarrassment.  
  
Ollivander began his questioning, "Are you right-handed? Yes. Then try this one. Nine inches, willow, unicorn core. Hmm...nothing. Here's another. Alder wood. Ten and half inches. Dragonheart string. Good for Charms. Yes, that's a match for sure. And on the second try I might add! I've still got it!"  
  
Sparks flew from Michael's new wand as a small flame emerged. Michael beamed with pride and held it up for his mum to see. Ollivander looked pleased and focused on Elizabeth. His mouth twitched.  
  
The parched lips muttered, "Ah, Ms. Potter. I have something special for you." Then Ollivander rummaged through his cracked desk, muttering.  
  
Elizabeth felt Michael questioning glance directed towards her back. That guy didn't have to say it like that. What does he mean anyhow? Ollivander dramatically plucked worn red father from a slot in his desk.  
  
Hermione stiffened behind them. Awestruck, Hermione asked faintly, "Is that a phoenix feather? Is that Harry's wand's core!? How did you..."  
  
Ollivander smiled mysteriously at her as if he was a child with a well-kept secret.  
  
"It was found at the scene of the unpleasantness," he informed them eagerly. "Dumbledore was under the impression that it can still be used for a good strong core. I agree with him. Perhaps it is meant for young Ms. Potter here. And I have an interesting choice of wood as well. Indeed this is the only wood this feather will work with now. I've tried various combinations but it's very stubborn. Now, Ms. Potter, are you right-handed or left-handed?"  
  
Elizabeth really felt uneasy now. She tried to think about her answer when Ollivander had asked Michael. At the orphanage, being left-handed was similar to having the bubonic plaque. She didn't want too much extra attention from the silver-eyed man. "They said at the orph-where I grew up that I am ambidextrous," she whispered. "I guess it could go either way."  
  
Ollivander's eyes widened comically at this declaration like Christmas had come early.  
  
He proclaimed grandly, "I have served very few with that disposition. Hmmm, this is actually the second time I have encountered this, Ms. Potter. You do me an honor indeed. You must choose your wand hand. But not right this moment. Find your strength as they say. Yes. Well, as I was saying, this feather responds to certain types of wood. This wood is a mixture of oak and elder. It is for the most part elder. This is a very promising tool for its wielder. Bewitching you might say. I had to use oak to stabilize this temperamental of wood. Have you heard the tale of Lord Compton and the Elder Witch? I've been to that site. This elder originated from that very tree. It's precisely twelve inches to the mark. Well-rounded indeed but focused on difficult magic work. Let's see. I just place the feather inside and seal it firmly. (The wand wiggled a bit in his grip) Give it a wave if you please, Ms. Potter."  
  
Elizabeth decided to grasp it with her right hand as traditional called for. Sinister. Wicked. Dexter. Good. The moment her fingers brushed the wood she felt warmth invading her very soul. That small light inside lit up like a thousand candles. To the spectators in the room, it was a fantastic like show. Whizzing sparks flew in every direction, skimming the ceiling and knocking away a few hanging boxes. The lamps flickered on and off in response to the magic in the air. Hermione gasped and pulled Michael closer to her out of the way of the spinning sparks. The air was thick, and a small shape emerged from her wand as it did for Michael. She couldn't tell what it was but it had wings. Then it vanished with the atmosphere in the room steadily returning to normal.  
  
The trio walked from the store in a tangible silence which was Elizabeth's least favorite condition. Mr. Ollivander had wrapped up their purchases, muttering about great things indeed. Elizabeth apologized fiercely for the state of the shop, but Mr. Ollivander wouldn't hear of it. She apparently had made the old man's day and quite possibly his life. He grinned like a mad man which sped the trio on their departure.  
  
Michael kept casting her askance glances and refused to say anything to ease the tension. Surely he isn't jealous? What happened in there was creepy! That old man was creepy! Besides, he has an excellent wand. And excellent parents. And an excellent personality. Oh, blimey... Elizabeth shook her head and decided to ignore Michael as well.  
  
If he was going to be this childish about the whole thing, well then that was fine with her. Two can play this game. Hermione noticed the silence and asked how they were enjoying their day. Michael cast a stare that was tinged with insolence at Elizabeth. She felt her smile drop as the strings that held it up were severed by her disappointment.  
  
"Where is that father of yours, Michael?" Hermione bit out crisply while scanning the crowd with narrowed eyes. "Honestly, he hasn't grown up a bit! We're behind schedule now. Yes, Michael, I know you threw your schedule away. That was very silly of you, wasn't it? We'll have to rely on Elizabeth's schedule then. Thank you, Elizabeth, for being so responsible. Now, it's to Florish and Blotts for your books!"  
  
Hermione's commentary didn't help the matter, and Elizabeth wished that she had thrown the blasted schedule in the rubbish bin as well. She focused on the flickering lights up ahead and reckoned she saw fairies inside. Elizabeth cherished the childhood joy of fairies and pixies and wanted to get a closer look. What would it be like if I was one of them? I guess I could enchant everyone to like me. Or I could just fly around, not worrying about anything at all. She was brought back to reality by a heart-wrenching explosion. Michael fell into her and brought her with him to the ground in a tangle of limbs. They were hauled back up by a surprisingly strong and frantic Hermione.  
  
The protective mother shoved them in a side street and hissed, "Stay here and don't you dare think about moving an inch or it's your heads!" Then she charged in the direction of the explosion with her wand drawn.  
  
People trampled by while running blindly, kicking up dust from the street. Some even fell and couldn't get up due to the panicking crowd. Screams screeched into the air and halted all human thoughts. Names were shouted as children got separated from their parents' desperate grasp. The air was hot now, stifling. It hurt so much to breathe. Michael made a motion to go after his mother, but Elizabeth grabbed his arm.  
  
He bellowed at her, "Let go! That's my mum! She's pregnant for Cripes Sake! LET ME GO!!" He pushed her down hard and before she could collect herself, had disappeared in the mass of pushing bodies.  
  
Oh my God, he's going to get killed. I have to go after him! I can't let him get hurt!!! She burst out from the alley and was instantly pushed back by a huge yelling man. As she dodged trying not to be pulled down by his barrels of legs, she banged into the wall and held her breath as more people flew by. Their faces were twisted in horrific expressions. Sticking close to the wall, she hurried past the boiling mass to the source of the chaos. Smoke billowed up from the side of the town and lights ripped into the sky. Green and red fought against each other, tearing one another viciously like animals thirsty for blood. There were people flying in the sky on brooms, casting spells upon the crowd. Judging from the screams along the smoking buildings, they were not friendly spells.  
  
Then the screams grew silent as a huge figure filled the sky. It was a grinning skeleton with a serpent through its mouth. What Is THAT HORRIBLE THING?! Her heart could not beat right. It kept thudding against her, and she fell hard. Gripping the soil in her hands, she snarled up at the abomination. The shrieks of terror were nothing compared to as before. These were animalistic wails of utter anguish and despair. These wails penetrated her brain and her head pounded in response. The world continued to collapse as more buildings dissolved into ruin.  
  
Elizabeth caught sight off another sign filling the smoldering sky, one that swallowed even the leering monstrosity. Thurisaz. Reversed Ansuz. Reversed Kenaz. Reversed Tiwaz. The sign of the Thorn blazed a path threw the sky. Then something incredible happened. The men on the brooms fled like the hounds of hell were nipping at their heels. In fact, all screams and all noise stopped.  
  
It was quiet in the aftermath. It's like living in a necropolis. Elizabeth grabbed a window seal and pulled herself up. I have to find Hermione and Michael. Oh, please let them be alright! She found that she had somehow twisted her ankle in her last fall. Growling in frustration, she looked around wildly, gritting her teeth, biting her lips. Her legs fought against her and became numb and useless.  
  
Some of the crowd had made past to the other side of town. Most had vanished with a crack as soon as the hooded men made their appearance. There in lies their power. Everyone's afraid of them. Cowards! She hobbled along, gripping the walls which were covered in a strange ashy powder. The taste of blood in her mouth kept her attached to this nightmare turned reality. The air was intolerable, burning her eyes and throat. Her palms made strange shapes in the dust. Then they disappeared as more powder quickly filled their spot. Her vision started to grow black around the edges. I CAN'T SEE!! Then the familiar darkness of unconsciousness took her violently as she fell with a thud on the cobbled path. Dust settled on her as well.  
  
How Could This Happen, Dumbledore? She opened her eyes which stung as if poked by hot irons. She groaned at the pain which stabbed her chest, and Madam Pomfrey floated above her like an angel in heavenly garb.  
  
"Oh Thank Heavens! You didn't inhale too much of the poison. OH THANK HEAVENS!" wailed the distraught nurse, clasping her gloved hands together.  
  
Elizabeth interrupted her, yelling hysterically, "MICHAEL! HERMIONE! UNCLE RON! They're still there! GET THEM OUT!!" Her vision blurred ominously but she refused to give in. I have to help! I have to do something! Hands restrained her, forcing her back into the white covered around her.  
  
"CALM YOURSELF CHILD! They're all well. They were taken to St. Mungo's for treatment. Albus insisted that you be brought here. Everyone made it though, Thank Heavens!" Madam Pomfrey had removed her hands, but Elizabeth found that she still could not remove herself from the vile bed.  
  
Pomfrey thrust a vial at her. "Here take this potion. It will soothe the pain," she commanded in the fashion of a true dictator.  
  
Elizabeth maneuvered her head away from the looming metal spoon in an act of defiance.  
  
"Oh for goodness's sake, are you really going to make me force this down your throat?! I'd be justified to use Imperio on you! Don't make me go that far, Ms. Potter!" roared the nurse in a change of mood so sudden and unpredictable Elizabeth thought of Jekyll and Hyde.  
  
Elizabeth didn't like the sound of the threat at all so she allowed the viscous liquid to slide down her throat. It tastes HORRIBLE! Her taste buds just perished forever in a single blow. Tears of disgust made their way down her dirty face. To her horror, sleep pushed its way in and faded the room to her dismay.  
  
Lowered voices greeted her return to the living. The lamps flickering above illuminated the curtains around her. Two shadows covered the wall and played on the covers.  
  
"How can this happen, Albus? He's dead. He has to be dead. You yourself saw him die at the hands of Harry Potter!" whispered a female voice. The voices did not notice that Elizabeth was awake. It was if she was a leave that had by chance fallen silently in the court yard.  
  
"Poppy, there were some things Tom dabbled in that where beyond my conception. To my eyes, I saw him die; in my mind, I saw him die and accepted it. However, he always claimed immortality. He's seared it into his followers, that much is clear. Perhaps, they are being deceived by trickery; someone pretending to be the Dark Lord. Perhaps, their minds won't let him die. To them, he must exist in some form or another. Their raids have been becoming fiercer, bolder. They believe strongly in whatever it is, and it has pushed them towards insanity and damnation. These atrocities today are beyond those of any committed on both sides of the war. It was mindless slaughter. Muggleborns and half-bloods weren't the only ones who suffered losses today. The attack was so well organized. They slipped through the Ministry's security like it was child's play. Even when Voldemort was strong, he proved unable to accomplish such a feat. The Aurors did not have any warnings, any whispers of an attack. I would have never believed-and that mark," Dumbledore halted, apparently struck by an impacting thought.  
  
"What is it, Albus?" pressed Madam Pomfrey tensely as if she really did not want to satisfy her curiosity.  
  
"It has burned in the sky once before on the very night of the Potters' downfall. It's the mark that rose above the ruins of their home, not the Dark Mark. This mark comes from a different more ancient source, overshadowing the Dark Lord in its malevolence. The Death Eaters fled from it; they fear it as much as we. Fawkes has been disturbed of late. Hagrid's reported that all magical creatures are fleeing the area. Some are even starving themselves to escape it. They sense it in the wind. They sense that it's coming here."  
  
The voices stopped, and the shadows stood motionless for awhile.  
  
"Make sure Elizabeth fares well tonight," said Dumbledore in what Elizabeth perceived to be a fatherly fashion.  
  
"I plan to stay with her," Madam Pomfrey stated resolutely even with some defiance as if he would dare suggest otherwise.  
  
"That is for the best. I fear we'll have to heighten our security around the castle. She'll have to stay with us until the start of the new school year. Maybe others can rally here. I want to give them hope, Poppy." Then Dumbledore's footfalls made their way out of the hospital wing and left Elizabeth's imagination to hatch its own dark terrors.  
  
Once again, she awoke to a voice, but this voice sent shivers of gripping cold down her spine. It was raspy and strained as if coming from the walls. She stared into the darkness with waves of numbness spreading throughout her body. Her side hurt in disapproval. The darkness was going to engulf her. She snapped her eyes shut and gripped her pillow tightly to the point where her fingers shot pain into her arm. Has it come now? There was a clinking as the curtains moved.  
  
Elizabeth resigned herself to her fate; she looked up, gaping into the dark and afraid to breathe. She was afraid to move an inch. The bleak curtains remained in their place, forming a suffocating box around her. I'm in a tomb. They protected her but kept her in the dark about what had taken place. The moon light streamed through the glass window and gave life to the dead.  
  
Every thing was too still as if waiting for something. Peering into the blue light, she saw the curtains move again, shimmering against limber fingertips. She needed a resolution; she needed this to end. Where's my wand? It was lying among the bowls and vials on the table near her bed. She had to get to it but that meant reaching through the curtains. She turned very slightly, hand moving towards her salvation. Her hand darted forward, felt cool wood, and retrieved her weapon.  
  
The fingers on the curtain retreated, and she heard a crunching of glass and a swish of a cloak moving away from her fortress. The only way to survive this is to surprise them. Do exactly what they least expect. She ripped way the curtains and leapt into the air, holding her wand in front of her like a samurai warrior. Then she hissed in pain. Glass covered the ground. What?! All the former floating candles had fallen to the ground and were still in motion, rocking back and forth. How could I not have heard that?! She caught sight of a shadow in the corner and ventured closer with her wand in hand. It was Madam Pomfrey dozing lightly in a chair, and she too had slept through the noise.  
  
Then she saw the smirking, tall boy who was leaning cockily against the doorway. He beckoned to her with his long fingers; he wanted her to follow him. His eyes still burned with the flames within him. A distorted smile was pasted on his face. A strange feeling raced across her spine and into her mind. Don't follow him! The untraceable command was simple and direct. She met the burning gaze of the arrogant boy and mouthed Not on your life.  
  
Simply saying this angered him was an understatement. Vials flew through the air, aiming strategically at her face. She ducked, and they shattered behind her, leaving her in a shower of jagged, glistening glass. The cabinets shelving potions were pushed over by an invisible hand and exploded in splinters upon hitting the floor. Madam Pomfrey sprung out of her chair with a shriek. Elizabeth looked pitifully up at her from her circle of glass and saw that the boy was gone.  
  
"WHAT ARE YOU ABOUT, CHILD?!" Pomfrey screamed. "WHY DID YOU DO THIS?!"  
  
Elizabeth tried to speak but was interrupted by the abrupt arrival of Albus Dumbledore who survived chaos in the hospital wing over his moon- shaped spectacles.  
  
Stunned at the violent scene, he asked quietly, "What has happened here? Poppy?"  
  
Like a rag being wiped across a table, Pomfrey squeaked out, "She's destroyed my supply of potions and caused the disaster that you see before you. She's out of control, Dumbledore!"  
  
Dumbledore hushed her with a look and directed his next enquiry toward Elizabeth.  
  
"Is this true, Ms. Potter?"  
  
"NO! I woke up and heard someone in the room. When I got up, the lights were out and then the glass exploded all around me," Elizabeth stated firmly, tactfully omitting the shade of the miserable boy that was haunting her.  
  
Without a doubt, Dumbledore knew she was withholding something for him and stared at her sternly with disappointment heavily reflected in his blue eyes.  
  
Madam Pomfrey gave a snort of disbelief, waving her hand dramatically at the door. "I assure you that no one could have gotten in here, Ms. Potter. I charmed the door myself. There was only you and I in this room. Now tell the truth!"  
  
Dumbledore commented that the door was indeed open and that is why he entered the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey flushed and began to pick up the spare pieces of glass. Elizabeth winced as she examined her wounded feet. Glass with flecks of her blood still remained embedded in her skin of her trembling hands. The blood that had come from her wounded feet made the slick floor hard to stand on, and she slipped back onto the bed, getting tangled in the curtains.  
  
Dumbledore approached her quickly and examined her feet, looking pained at their bloody condition. He gingerly held them in his soft, wrinkled hands and muttered a spell just out of her hearing. She felt a warm tingling and knew her feet had been healed. He sought out her eyes, questioning her silently. Elizabeth quickly pretended to be busily examining her feet. He sighed with disappointed and slowly straightened up, his back creaking a bit. She kept her head down and followed his shadow that crossed towards the shattered windows with her eyes.  
  
Madam Pomfrey never ceased in her mutinous murmurings that grew into an angry buzzing around Elizabeth's head. Dumbledore surveyed the grounds, his face fraught with worry. He turned to Pomfrey and Elizabeth who both were waiting for his verdict.  
  
"I must summon the Order and faculty immediately. The barrier around Hogwarts has been weakened considerably by-something," he said gravely.  
  
Madam Pomfrey gasped in disbelief. "It cannot be. That barrier has existed since the time of Godric Gryffindor. It remains as long as this castle stands."  
  
Dumbledore stood in silence near the open windows, draped in moonlight. He looked so very tired as if he was about to fade away in the pale light from all his futile attempts to maintain order and peace. His failures were eating him away from the inside. He left the room while maintaining his gloomy silence.  
  
Madam Pomfrey turned to Elizabeth, suspicion still etched fixedly into her usually friendly face. Pomfrey couldn't help but think 'Ever since she came here, things have been going badly.' Poppy forced her face into a friendly grimace and quietly ushered Elizabeth out into the damp halls. The nurse's mouth was scarlet due to her nervously biting her lips; it looked like blood from a knife wound.  
  
"It would be best if you remained in Gryffindor tower for the rest of the evening. For your safety. I'll accompany you," Madam Pomfrey said dryly, locking the hospital wing with her wand.  
  
Elizabeth was glad she had someone to walk down the ominous corridors. However, she retracted that thought when Madam Pomfrey continued to drill holes in the back of her head with her sharp eyes. A hotness rose in her throat, and her body tensed from confusion and her sore feet. They couldn't have reached the portrait of the Fat Lady any sooner. Elizabeth hurried inside, wincing as the cold floor made contact with her bare feet. The portrait closed with a click, and she distinctly heard conspiring whispers on the other side. She waited a few seconds and then tried to open the portrait to no avail. She was locked in for the night.  
  
Her chest hurt from the distrust the kindly nurse had directed at her. It pierced through her like a cold knife. It brought on an onslaught on negative thoughts in its wake, opening a flood gate. She remembered Michael's quiet resentment and Hermione's disbelieving gaze. She remembered Fleur's distasteful scrutiny and the exchange of judgment through her glances with Angelina. Most of all, she remembered Dumbledore's fierce disappointment, and at this bitter memory, she threw herself heavily onto the red couch by the fire. The fire burned in tune with her anxiety. She was lulled to sleep by its dance and failed to notice the searing gaze from the dark corner of the room. He sneered at her and threw out words in her direction. Soon, little one, it will come to pass. Very soon. 


	5. Lazarus 4: The Order, the Sorting, and S...

Chapter 4: The Order, the Sorting and Strange Alliances  
"Without order nothing can exist - without chaos nothing can  
evolve"  
"Don't be bewildered or surprised when you go through the fiery  
trials for this is no strange, unusual thing that is going to happen  
to you."  
  
She was in a room with faint lights flickering on her face, putting in her at a sense of ease and contentment. Her companion's face was darkened and lost in the shadows. She only obtained slight glances of his face but nothing too descriptive. Elizabeth felt very comfortable with his presence as she would in an old friend's but her desire to see him clearly overwhelmed her senses. She tried to back up to get a better look at him and the room itself but found to her horror that she could not move back an inch. There seemed to be some sort of barrier or force that prevented her from retreat. Then she noticed the black serpent. It was draped across the man's arm, and he slowly raised his hand to her face. The serpent crept closer to her, and it was in a rage, hissing menacingly. Horror threw her blood into turmoil and again repelled her backwards to no avail. Why is he doing this!? The snake struck at her, biting the place where her shoulder and neck met. She knew what it wanted; if it couldn't poison her externally, it would strike at her life blood, her heart.  
  
Elizabeth woke up that morning with a blinding headache and a pain on her shoulder. Feeling panicked at the sight of the vacant common room, she jumped up and rushed to the portrait of the Fat Lady. For one wild instant, she believed she might still be locked in and that gave her a choking sense of claustrophobia. She really couldn't bear to be in that blood red room for an instant longer.  
  
The Fat Lady was in a highly irate mood. She lectured Elizabeth on etiquette for it seems it was five in the morning. Oh well. Elizabeth decided to explore the corridors; she had on slippers at any rate and wasn't going back to sleep. This place gives me even more nightmares. Hogwarts was truly amazing in the morning light which seeped through the paned glass, displaying the most royal images on the stone. She enjoyed listening to her footfalls and became less stressed as she progressed down the labyrinth. Occasionally suites of armor that also were not pleased with the time of her stroll would clank in her direction. I wish I had taken a shower first before I freaked out. I think there's still dust on me. Elizabeth kept rubbing her arms although there was no dust to be found. She felt as frightened as if a bat's wing had brushed against her forehead in a dark threat. Also, her neck hurt in a mocking intensity. She thought she had felt a new scar her dream wound but that was ridiculous. As she touched her neck, it hurt in indignation. How...?  
  
Most of the doors she tried were locked tight. Her imagination soared at the thought of what was behind them. As immature as she felt, she enjoyed riding the stairs as they flew the air, rearranging themselves. Portraits on the wall muttered, but she was having too much fun to care. She even yelled out her jubilant just to make a point. Her cries were echoed back at her as she held her arms in the air, hair whipping around her face. She played a game of how long she could keep her balance as the staircases whipped around wildly. It took her mind pleasantly off the other things that lurked under the surface.  
  
Elizabeth found that the corridors were going lower and steps journeying downward into stillness greeted her. She yelped as her foot went right threw some sort of booby trap on the staircase just to spite her.  
  
"Bloody..." she hissed in pain as the splintered step in question refused to release her.  
  
She waged a war with the stubborn foe and eventually broke free. The leg of her pajamas (or rather one of her relative's pajamas) was torn and her foot a little worse for wear. She glared as the step repaired itself and returned to its previous, innocent façade. At first, Elizabeth was relieved when she had reached the bottom. But then she noticed the thick, gloom that surrounding her and weighed her down. She was in a dungeon complete with wooden tables, a smell that attacked her vividly, and vials of horrible bits of—things she'd rather not think about. Chains even adorned the ceilings, and there were no windows to speak of. She turned to leave abruptly but for some reason the door she had entered through had vanished. Again her claustrophobia returned with a vengeance as she spun around wildly and spotted a forbidding looking door to her right. She leapt toward it and began to push and pull on the cold metal.  
  
"What are you doing attempting to break into my office? How very foolish of you," a sinister voice filled with disgust rose from behind her.  
  
She made herself turn around with every last bit of resolution and courage she could muster. She didn't want to meet the dungeon master; it certainly wasn't on her things-to-do list. The man who stood before her instantly made her feel small although he was nothing to speak of. He had greasy hair that hung down in rivulets around his somewhat sallow face centered with a hook nose. However, this added to his presence of executioner, and she cringed.  
  
"Are you deaf or extremely moronic? I'd say the latter judging by your expression," he sneered.  
  
His eyes widened as he examined her more closely. His face became darker with anger as recognition flashed in his eyes. Yet, Elizabeth was most definitely sure she had never met this man before in her life, luckily for her.  
  
"Oh, let me guess. Another Potter! That explains your stupidity or do you just think you don't have to answer." His voice became a hiss not un- similar to the jet-black serpent in her nightmare.  
  
Wait just a minute! Elizabeth grew enraged at the insult. Who does he think he is, speaking to me like that? I just got lost. She then (foolishly on recollection) asked him exactly who he was.  
  
"I am your soon-to-be professor of potions, Potter. Your lot always knew how to make an impression—full of arrogance and bad blood. And just in case your mind can't grasp the severity of your situation, I will bring you up to date," he began to talk in a slow, menacing voice as his eyes flashed with hate.  
  
"I caught you trying to break into my office! I know that your golden-boy father stole from me as well! Furthermore, you were wandering the halls looking to make trouble not unlike your dear grandfather. I see that you too have the impression you're untouchable and above the rules. And most of all, Potter, you have the attitude of a trouble maker when you spoke to me with that tone. For all these offenses, especially vandalism, I could get you expelled this instant!" he finished with his eyes wide with a malignant glee and a smile that encompassed his whole face.  
  
Her whole body was about to collapse on itself. I got myself EXPELLED! And I didn't even start the year! She gaped at the vicious man in horror and disbelief. He hates me so much! Such hatred to this extent was unfamiliar to her including that of Westley's. At least, he put up with her for a year or two before he grew hostile. At least, he knew her. This man hates her for being the spawn of her grandfather and father apparently, and she was shocked at how long this loathing had lasted in him. And, of course, she was the one to bring it out in full force by opening her mouth. He looked simply murderous. She started to grow scared as the realization that she was alone with this madman hit her with full force in the stomach.  
  
"Ah, Severus, I see you have met our young Ms. Potter."  
  
Elizabeth un-tensed her limbs as she recognized Dumbledore's voice. I'm saved!  
  
The soon-to-be-madman/murderer straightened in alarm and obvious disappointment. He pointed to Elizabeth with an accusing, outraged finger.  
  
"Albus, she was attempting to break into my office and vandalize it," Snape snarled at Dumbledore who looked at him in exasperation and something similar to pity.  
  
"I'm sure that was not her intentions at all, Severus. She does not know what would be in your office at any rate. Come now, it's been a hard morning for all of us," Dumbledore soothed the irate man. "I do think you startled Ms. Potter a great deal more than she startled you."  
  
Snape and Elizabeth glared at each other in mutual dislike, and Dumbledore could just sigh at the massive display of immaturity before him.  
  
Dumbledore tried a different tactic.  
  
"I'm sure you've notice the resemblance between Elizabeth and her grandmother, Lilly Potter. Isn't it remarkable?"  
  
Snape's face froze up in a strange sort of emotion. Elizabeth was drowned in the tension as he directed his evil eye toward Dumbledore himself as an unspoken message passed between them. Dumbledore realized his error and surrendered on an attempt to repair the damage done.  
  
"Severus, the Order has arrived, and we require your presence at the meeting." The tone in which Dumbledore put it erased any possible misconception that it was a request or invitation.  
  
Snape paled and nodded. He cast a last sharp look over his shoulder at a frazzled Elizabeth to make it clear that what had occurred between them would not be forgotten or by any means, forgiven. The bad feelings and blood that was drawn between them would not be erased any time soon. He swooped out of the room with his cape flowing behind him like an overgrown bat. Elizabeth was left with Dumbledore who turned to inspect her.  
  
"I understand you natural curiosity about the castle. Curiosity is truly a virtue and in most cases, should be indulged. But, I'm afraid you'll have to curb your exploration of the castle for now. And during the school year, you are not to go wandering about at night under any circumstances. Why don't you go back to the Gryffindor common room? Surely, a few more hours of rest would not disagree with you. I think you will find that you'll crave it when the school year begins," Dumbledore finished with a wink.  
  
"I'm not sure I know my way back, sir..." Elizabeth abhorred looking like a little lost child, but she was anxious to get back in order to avoid any more encounters with 'Severus'.  
  
"Ah, I see. I'll accompany you myself."  
  
The walk back was an awkward one, poisoned ahead of time by both spoken and unspoken words.  
  
"How is my uncle, Hermione, and Michael? Are they all right?" she asked. It had been haunting her the time she was awake. The time she wasn't awake was a whole different arena.  
  
Dumbledore spoke gravely, "Mr. Weasley and his young son are recovering nicely along with your uncles who were in the area. Alas, Mrs. Weasley is not as well as we had hoped. You might have known of her due pregnancy. The mediwizards fear consequences shall arise from her exposure to the poison. However, there is also the chance all will be well. Time will tell..."  
  
Elizabeth was struck with horror. Her heart wept for them. She had almost lost them all.  
  
She forced her voice through her closed throat, "Sir, did you know who attacked Diagon Allye? Does the Ministry know?"  
  
Dumbledore let out a ragged sigh in frustration, showing his age in the action.  
  
"They have no idea, no leads. I have my guesses but nothing is certain. That is the reality in this age of shaky peace. Nothing is for certain."  
  
Elizabeth grew introspective. She could not help but notice how clumsy she moved and how her hands grasped each other for comfort. She was relieved at the sight of the enormous pink dress coming around the corner. She almost made it into the common room without any hindrances but...  
  
"Ms. Potter, I had hoped you would mention the events of last night. I feel there was more to it than previously said. I know that yesterday was upsetting...rightly so. However, if you have anything to tell me about what awoke you in the hospital wing, anything at all..." he let his words hang in the air as he looked at her expectantly.  
  
"No...there's nothing at all, sir," she hoped her face reflected her answer.  
  
"Very well, Ms. Potter."  
  
She watched his cloak disappear around the corner, praying she wouldn't deeply regret what had been said and what had not been spoken.  
  
Tonks had come by later, looking extremely tired with dark circles around her eyes and clothes haphazardly thrown on. She put on a happy front though and visited with Elizabeth most of the morning. Elizabeth questioned her thoroughly about the events the day before.  
  
"Who were those people on the brooms? Were they Voldemort's Deatheaters?"  
  
Tonks flinched at the sound of Voldemort and gazed at her in amazement.  
  
"How do you know about—them ?" she questioned.  
  
Elizabeth muttered, "Michael mentioned them. But was that the group that's done this...to my aunt Hermione." Elizabeth's anger had grown from that morning exponentially.  
  
She kept picturing Hermione running through the crowd with her wand drawn, protecting them. She had spent the rest of her morning in the bathroom, hitting the sink with her palm till it stung. But she ceased when she had heard Tonks enter the knock on the dorm room.  
  
Tonks looked at her with sympathy, "Yes. It was what was left of them. By the time we Aurors had gotten there they had mostly fled. I'm—sorry about Hermione. She's strong through; she'll pull through it okay."  
  
Elizabeth grasped that hope and held it close to her.  
  
"What is this Order, anyways, Tonks?" she asked in curiosity.  
  
"Oh! Don't mention that to anyone! Do you understand, Lizzy? It's a secret group of wizards and witches that stood against dark wizards for ages. Absolutely no one must know that the Order of the Phoenix met here. It's vital, Liz!" Tonks had taken a stern tone that Elizabeth had never heard from her.  
  
"Okay! I promise I won't mention it. Cross my heart," Elizabeth said hastily.  
  
Tonks softened and asked her if she would like to have breakfast with her in Hogsmeade.  
  
Elizabeth happily agreed and hurried to dress. Together they had a wonderful breakfast at The Three Broomsticks which was mostly vacant due to the time of the morning.  
  
Blood racing, she waited for the wand light as she pressed herself against the wall. Sandy was supposed to have given the signal for what seemed like ages ago. She hoped she didn't run into problems with Filch or Mrs. Norris. She hoped Michael was okay dealing with the Slytherins and the territorial library books. Although after what he had said to her...For this to go over well, for the Slytherins to fall into the Marauders' trap, Michael had to lure them into the library. She drew in chilly air, green eyes peering cautiously from behind Uric the Oddball.  
  
It's too quiet. The torches dancing along the walls were bringing to much shadow for her comfort. Sighing, she fiddled with her cloak, thinking about the events of the last few days. Actually, this is the first time she had quiet time to think. It felt like her head was growing to full. But the Slytherins had gone too far, and that's why she was here, hiding behind a statue at midnight. At least, she thought it was midnight. She had such a bad feeling. She saw...him today, usually that a sign of some disaster approaching on swift wings. Her eyes were getting blurry. This all started with that evil git! I have nothing in common with those filthy Slytherins. That hat can go eat itself.  
  
But the reason she was...bothered had nothing to do with Malfoys or Snakes. The words floated to her again. "Everyone around Potters die."  
  
Elizabeth Potter had never imagined she would dislike someone more that she disliked Queenie McKnight. That changed drastically on the train ride to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had almost not let her ride the train. To be fair, it seemed rather silly when she was already at Hogwarts.  
  
She had risen that morning to look decent for her new classmates. She was dizzy with excitement and kept glancing at the mirror, imagining all the interesting people she would meet. A knock on the door broke her out of her reverie, and she was shocked to see her Uncle Fred beaming in the doorway with his fiery red hair that could give the room a run for its money.  
  
"Good, you're ready! I thought I would have to drag you out of bed."  
  
"Ready...for school?" she hazarded a guess. She didn't expect to see her family for awhile like Tonks had firmly stated.  
  
"Well, yeah! We've got to do this right, though! You, my friend, are getting on that train," he crossed his arms in triumph.  
  
Elizabeth almost started dancing around the room.  
  
"Are you sure? Dumbledore said that I didn't need to go on the train."  
  
"Initially, he said that. But, the Weasley charm is a powerful tool, Liz. Use it well. He had to agree when I had a wizard-to-wizard chat with him!" Her uncle smiled but the light showed the circles under his eyes. She wanted to ask about Hermione but the possible answer bit off the question before it could leave her mouth.  
  
Uncle Fred fished something silvery out of the pockets of his seemingly endless cloak.  
  
"Here's something for your birthday. With all that's happened... better late than never, right! I spent ages digging through your dad's old school trunk. I know he'd want you to have it. He inherited it from his father who inherited it from his father who—well, you get the idea!"  
  
Elizabeth gasped at the sight of the glimmering cloak. It was paper-light and translucent. She fastened it around her and...  
  
Once on the train, Elizabeth looked around anxiously, quickly popping her head in and out of the numerous compartments that lined the aisle. Laughter bubbled out the compartment doors, and she swore that she heard Michael's voice from somewhere.  
  
She found Michael in the farthest compartment with four apparently decent other people. A boy with a round face marked with large, blue eyes and dressed in an overgrown striped shirt didn't look up as she entered. In fact, he had quickly turned towards the window. She was about to say something to Sandy and Josephine, but someone pushed her from behind in the small of her back, shoving her forwards.  
  
A pale girl around her age had abruptly barged into the compartment, hair flying around her face like a white halo. She could have been mistaken for an angel or simply an extreme form of magic personified if it wasn't for her mouth that held traces of cruelty. Her grey eyes narrowed, and her nose twitched as through invaded by a horrid stench. She had the air of a judge and that's exactly what she was doing, judging them.  
  
Nevertheless, Sandy gave her most winning smile, anxious to avoid social execution.  
  
"Hi. I'm Sandy Finnigan. And you are?"  
  
The girl gave an arrogant smirk, "My name is Lilith Malfoy."  
  
Michael started when he heard the name and spun around to face his predetermined foe.  
  
Lilith noted his sudden motion and almost burst out laughing when she realized who he was.  
  
"Oh! Are you the half-breed then? I can tell by the vacant expression and buckteeth! Which did you inherit from your dirty mother?"  
  
The compartment went into a stunned silence, but before Michael could exact revenge, the door swung open again.  
  
The second intruder was tall, and he almost hit his head on the compartment ceiling as he entered with his sister. He sized the group of first years up with the experience all his Slytherin years had bestowed on him. He was arrogance personified and had the uncanny ability to make one feel like an unidentifiable spot on the rug. His silver eyes threw darts that struck them hard.  
  
Her cousin was not use to this experience although unfortunately Elizabeth was fairly familiar with the sting of snobbishness herself.  
  
"Yeah, what do you want?" Matthew voice faltered, and he grimaced as it echoed back at him.  
  
"We heard the Potter girl was in this compartment."  
  
Elizabeth really hoped he wasn't using the royal we, though she wouldn't put it past him. The smug girl on his left must be his sister. She gazed firmly at him, answering his challenge. Bring it on! He is outnumbered and only has his tart of a sister.  
  
Lilith grinned, "That's her, Pyrrhus...the leprechaun."  
  
You...She hoped this whole leprechaun thing wouldn't become a running joke.  
  
Michael seized his opportunity. "Hah, what kind of name is Pyrrhus?" he struck back, laughing.  
  
"It's better than that mugglified name you have, half-blood. By the way, how's your dear mother doing? Did she learn her place in our world, in the dirt? They always have to learn the hard way."  
  
Michael grew red and started to stutter. The terrible thing was he seemed not to be able to gain his tongue. The horror that he had been running from in his mind had been thrust in his face.  
  
Elizabeth leapt up, enraged.  
  
"Like your family's anything to speak of?! You're just a bunch of murderous cowards hiding behind masks. What does blood matter when the "pure-blooded" are a bunch of mindless animals?!"  
  
Pyrrhus hissed, "You'd best mark my name."  
  
"That's exactly what I'll do for the rest of my life! Go around remembering your name!"  
  
Pyrrhus started and then smiled at her, the kind of smile that one gives when they know something special.  
  
"Heh, you've got quite a mouth for an orphan. But that won't last long with the curse of your tainted blood. You're worse off than Weasel there."  
  
Excuse me?!  
  
"You don't know? I see...they haven't told you."  
  
Told me what?  
  
"I guess they don't need to. Look at your family's history, Potter. You lot do seem to die out."  
  
Disgusted, Sandy hissed at him, "How dare you?! Get out !" Then, she stood shoulder to shoulder with Elizabeth.  
  
Pyrrhus curled his lip, "I wouldn't make a habit out of getting too close to Potter, Finnigan. Before they go, those around them go first. Don't they, Weasel? And don't worry about looking the curse in your family, Potter. It won't be in any book. I dare say, it'll come to you soon enough."  
  
Then he blew out of the room with his sister in his shadow. Sandy slammed the door shut, muttering under her breath. Michael gripped the seat with both hands with his hands. His hair covered his face. Josephine looked troubled and didn't talk the rest of the way. The silent boy had never moved his face from the window, his body rigid. He didn't speak either. No one did.  
  
Cursed...  
  
It was awkward to walk down the rows of tables as everyone turned to study you. The overwhelming room filled with a sea of faces was cut off as the hat slid tightly over her eyes. The must invaded her nose, and stifling a sneeze, she waited for something to happen. Something crept into her mind, and a voice echoed from somewhere burrowed within.  
  
"Another Potter, eh! I was looking for a challenge. It's so boring when the mind is easily read."  
  
Her hands tightened around the stood, and she felt distinctly queasy. She was approaching the day of her judgment and was definitely not ready for the encounter.  
  
"Hmmm....I see courage and determination. You're anxious to prove yourself. My, my, with what desire you burn for success! And loads of intelligence! My girl, you have a natural flare for magic! Oh, this will take awhile," the voice was excited by the prospect.  
  
Please hurry! Elizabeth did not what to have the longest sorting in the history of Hogwarts.  
  
"Heh—that marks out Hufflepuff. I'm afraid I can't hurry. I sense something within you. I feel as if...call me musty...I have seen your type before. Ms. Potter, your life will be marked by choices. It is my duty to place you in a house where you will be taught survival. You have qualities that can easily be applied to any house but I am leaning towards the notable house of Slyth..."  
  
Wait! Please not Slytherin! She pictured Pyrrhus's stinging, glinting eyes and her family's crestfallen faces.  
  
My whole family is in Gryffindor, my father—  
  
"Yes, your father. I remember him well. I still stick with what I said before... he should have been in Slytherin. And I will tell you why. I saw bravery and kindness in him. I also saw ambition. I saw years of...hurt. I saw his future as a warrior. But in the war that he was destined for, honor does not exist. I wanted him to see through the eyes of those he had to fight. He suppressed his more Slytherin aspects of cunning and manipulation. He hated that he possessed such qualities. He desired ideals. There was of course nothing wrong with him for yearning for ideals. But he lost a side of himself that held perception and foresight. If one is unbalanced, the scale will tilt and fall. You must accept yourself as you are and not change for the sake of others, Ms. Potter."  
  
PLEASE! I want to be in Gryffindor. You said I had choices. That's my choice!  
  
The hat didn't respond for awhile. She felt like her head was going to explode.  
  
"Very well. I will allow you to choose your path. Do not be surprised when you find that you are worlds different from your Gryffindor companions. Do not be surprised when you find your self seeking other avenues. You can not sake that side of yourself. If you nourish it, it will grow to be a fine tool. If you smoother it, it will eventually consume you. Remember that you will always have a tie, a bond to Slytherin. But I will sort you into...GRYFFINDOR!" the hat yelled out this last bit to her relief, and she resisted the urge to fling the ragged terror to the ground.  
  
The Gryffindor table whistled and cheered as she approached them, still bogged down by the hat's words. Am I doomed from the start?  
  
She caught sight of the nearly headless ghost at the head of the table and maneuvered to avoid him.  
  
She sat down by Sandy and Michael (thankful further down the table) who was engaged in conversation with Daniel Thomas.  
  
Elizabeth turned to find that the person besides her who happened to be the silent blond-headed boy from the train. "Isn't it exciting we're in the same house? Sorry, but I didn't catch your name on the train."  
  
He glanced sideways, trying to decide whether to answer her or not. She just caught the word Longbottom before he turned his back.  
  
Whoa, what's his problem?  
  
Looking up at the gloomy ceiling, she hoped the sorting hat didn't have the ability to see the future as it had claimed.  
  
It was two weeks later that the war between Gryffindor and Slytherin began. Of course, it was a surprise that the tension between the two houses didn't spark much earlier.  
  
Classes had been absolutely unbelievable, in a good way. She had already learned so much and her teachers, the only adult figures she had known after Westley, seemed to genuinely like her.  
  
In Transfiguration, she was the first to turn her flame into a needle. Really, her flame didn't just look like a needle, it was a needle. Elizabeth proved this to herself when she reached out to touch it to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. Owww! She yelped and stuck her wounded finger in her mouth, causing a wave of faces to turn towards her. She grinned awkwardly.  
  
McGonagall stalked to Elizabeth's desk, most likely to tell her off. Elizabeth knew from first glance that McGonagall was not a teacher to be taken lightly. Well, not really. At her first glance, McGonagall had been a cat at the time. Then she turned back into herself. Elizabeth preferred her as a cat. Her plan had been to be invisible in the back row behind her stack of books, but she just ruined that dream for herself.  
  
"Ms. Potter, what exactly have you been doing back here while the rest of your classmates have been trying to pass my class?"  
  
"Um...I kind of—stuck myself with my needle. I'm sorry, Professor." That sounded so stupid!  
  
"Excuse me?!"  
  
"The needle—"  
  
McGonagall snatched the needle off the desk and examined it sternly though her horned glasses as though trying to blame the needle itself for disturbing her class.  
  
"Ms. Potter, do you mean to tell me that you produced a needle on your first try?"  
  
Elizabeth glanced around at her classmates who stared at her open-mouthed. She also noted their flames were still flames. Oh.  
  
"Yes, Professor. I guess I got lucky?" she hazarded a guess that this sentence might appease the teacher. McGonagall continued to eye her suspiciously.  
  
"Would you mind doing it again then, Ms. Potter, for the class?"  
  
Elizabeth was scared for a moment she wouldn't be able to transfigure the flame again under all the scrutiny. Nevertheless, it was easy for her to do so. All she had to do was focus that sensation she had felt that night she flew the bed into the wand in her hand. Then with the proper motions, she had a needle. She silently thanked whoever might be listening to her mental prayers.  
  
The class had sat in a stunned silence. Then McGonagall gave her a smile!  
  
"Well done, Ms. Potter. Class, you have a new standard set. I would continue if I were you."  
  
The same pattern had occurred in the rest of her classes. Needless, to say, Professor Snape was not pleased at all. He was the exception to the charmed relationship she had with the other teachers. He had questioned her continuously the very second she had stepped into his classroom. Although she stammered and was extremely nervous about the attention she was receiving, she wasn't about to let answer incorrectly. She had read every inch of her Potions book the weekend before school started. It was the principle of the battle they were waging. She still lost.  
  
Her classmates had started to move around near the end of the class. Snape was above irked at this point.  
  
"Sit down at once!" he snapped out.  
  
There was a flurry of motion as everyone dove for their seats. Then Snape had turned his dark (demented?) gaze on Elizabeth. Her stomach clenched. She was emotionally taxed and prepared to surrender now.  
  
"Ms. Potter, I've figured you out. You are a little Know-It-All teacher's pet seeking attention! Although this may get you though other classes, it won't you get you through this one! You probably had seen my class lesson plan when I caught you sneaking around in this room at the beginning of the year. And don't think for one minute, I will favor you like my other colleagues because of your father's heroic status. You might want to rethink your place here in my class."  
  
A group of kids started to laugh behind her. She was so numb with horror that she didn't care.  
  
"You are dismissed."  
  
She tried to gather her books with dignity and walk calmly out of the dungeon. She saw Sandy start to approach her, but she raced out, already blinded by the tears gathering in her eyes. I can't believe I'm crying! How dare he call me a sneak! Does he even have a lesson plan! He's the one asking me all those stupid questions—  
  
She made it to a girl's lavatory. The door slam almost deafened her. She sought out a stall and began to have a good cry. Hogwarts had changed in her eyes. Even though most of the teachers were nice, her peers were less amiable. Most stared at her when she walked down the hall, whispering to their friends. The Slytherins were just down-right hostile; one fifth year even tried to trip her down the stairs. Her Gryffindor mates had been okay but distant like Frank Longbottom. Her only true friends were Sandy, Josephine, and Michael. But Michael had been going through so much...  
  
That led to another bout of tears. Her grandmother had sent her a continuous stream of letters about school, home, and plans for visits. Yet, every time she had written about Hermione's health, the response had been vague. Michael told her himself the second day of school.  
  
Michael sat in the darken Common Room, bathed in the light from the hearth. He didn't look up. In his clenched hand was a letter. From his father, mother, who knows?  
  
She had wanted to talk about his mum with him but didn't know how to start. It was like dancing on glass, each step treacherous and full of hidden dangers.  
  
Elizabeth had been asleep but a chill woke her to the pitch black room. One of her roommates had extinguished the candle by her bed. Trying to calm down, she had reached blindly for her wand and said a simple illuminating charm. Still breathing fast, she crept downstairs to walk it off, missing Michael entirely. She jumped a foot in the air when he spoke suddenly.  
  
"They won't get away with it."  
  
Elizabeth jumped a foot of the ground and gaped for a few seconds. She finally processed it through.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"The Death Eaters. I swear I'll be the best Auror ever. I'll master every Defense Spell there is. Then I won't be so...useless."  
  
She sat down across from him.  
  
"How's your mum?" She dreaded the answer.  
  
"She's fine but...the baby—she was a girl, you know."  
  
No. Please No!  
  
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. She felt like she had been punched in the stomach. The chill was worse, coming from the inside. I understand the feeling he has about being helpless in the face of this. I had been there, too. I had done nothing.  
  
"I can't think right now. But I Know I will stop this from ever happening again to anyone. They won't get away with it," he brought his clenched fist up to his forehead.  
  
She reached out to take his hand, but he snatched it away.  
  
"No! Don't try to help me. Don't take up for me! I can do it myself!" he glared balefully at her, tears slipping down his cheeks.  
  
"I know that! I was just— trying."  
  
"Well, stop!"  
  
He got up to leave, but she managed to get a hold of his sleeve. Michael looked at her numbly, not angry now, just numb.  
  
"We'll do it together. Let's master Defense together. Let's—get through this together...as a family."  
  
It isn't fair. Elizabeth glared at the stall door with venom through her tears. So far, everything had been chaotic. The chatter of girls her own age seemed so trivial after that night. Uncle Ron had come for Michael the very next day to visit his mother at St. Mungo's. His eyes were glazed over, and he carried a veil of sadness over him. Like Michael, he carried the burden of blame in his own mind. Elizabeth wanted to go with them, but Dumbledore had insisted for her to stay at Hogwarts, an act Elizabeth still hadn't forgiven him for.  
  
Lately, the library became her place of residence...again. The last bit of the summer she had used to study ahead for all her classes. When she had nothing left to prepare for, she attacked the shelves, searching for something to take her mind off things. She cherished Hogwarts: A History, adored Uric the Oddball and Wendelin the Weird. She loved the tales of Morgan La Fay and the extreme magic she wielded that made her both feared and loved by her foes. She especially loved the Founder's tales of Hogwarts.  
  
She shivered. It was strange she returned to the library after what she had discovered and...had taken.  
  
Biting her lip, she let herself remember... Not Hogwarts: A History.  
  
A loose panel under the shelf about Salazar Slytherin caught her eye. Although she ignored it at first, it kept drawing her back. Madam Pince, the librarian, was near the front, but for some reason, she went to double check her position. This had the air of a secret and probably for a good reason. She lifted the wood as gently as she could with splinters delving into her hand. Gritting her teeth, she succeeded in moving her small hand in the darkness to retrieve something. She hissed in alarm as she felt something...dry and scaly.  
  
What?! A snake! Glaring into the slot, she couldn't detect anything move or hear anything hiss.  
  
Madam Pince sneezed. Time was fragile. She darted her hand forward again and drew out a book lined with what looked like snake skin. That didn't bother her. What bothered her was that on the cover of the book...was that terrible image that had burned the sky that day of the attack on Diagon Alley. In red...The Thorn. It in turn burned into her eyes. The book slipped through her sweaty hands and hit the floor with a thud. Madam Pince's heels clicked on the stone, echoing all around. She seized the book and shoved it into her bag that was thankfully next to her.  
  
In retrospect, it was impulse that made her take that book, made her hastily replace the panel. She had raced out of the library like a maniac, heading straight for Gryffindor Tower. There, she at first threw the book in the trunk. She found that this place didn't sake her panic. She tore a place between the wood and the fabric, placing the book in there. Then, she placed the Diverting Charm on it where anyone who looked in her trunk (even after she had locked it) would feel their eyes slide away from that spot. It is worked with the Muggles at least. She covered it with all her books and new clothes. After, she forced it from her mind and made sure not to return to the library anytime soon.  
  
I'm not a thief! At least she never had been before. Never in her life had she ever taken anything that wasn't hers. That book made her act strangely, not in control of herself. It had burned her hand.  
  
Elizabeth gave a start, gripping the phoenix around her neck. She didn't remember that but it had happened. That doesn't make sense. She knew it though. Just like she knew written in the middle of the Thorn were the words homo homini lupus est. Elizabeth pried numb fingers from the chain around her neck and examined her left palm. The shape, whatever it was, was turning from a white outline to a darker red.  
  
She felt sick. The lavatory was so cold. Funny. Now she felt like she wasn't alone, like a presence was in the girl's restroom with her. Was it that guy with the red eyes? It could be. Elizabeth made herself start to move but then... a face appeared through the door!  
  
"Aaahhhhhh!!" she fell back shielding her face in defense. Please help!  
  
"Ahhhhhh!!!!" the ghostly face retreated.  
  
Whoa! Elizabeth scooted against the wall, curling herself in a ball. Then she heard ragged wailing.  
  
A scream echoed all around her, "Why does no one ever like me?! They're so meeeaaannn! I'm so hideous no one can stand to even be around me!!!!! I could just die and no one would care!!!! OH!!!! TOO LATE!!!"  
  
Elizabeth grasped her ears as the shriek went impossibly high-pitched to the point where she though her ears would fall off or glass would break. Then she felt drops of water on her head. In the stall next to her, a huge wave of blue splashed on the floor with a smack. If that wasn't enough, the toilet began to flush itself!  
  
I'm getting out of here!! Elizabeth darted out the door, followed by an even louder shriek and the slamming of ragged doors. As she fled for her life, Elizabeth swore she would never enter the girl's lavatory on the second floor as long as she was in her right mind.  
  
Michael returned that weekend brooding and depressed. He walked around in a stupor. To her shame, Elizabeth was afraid to approach him. She wanted to give him space. Only Daniel Thomas disappeared off with him. Elizabeth noticed Daniel didn't talk much...he was just there.  
  
Then Sunday night, Michael accosted her about studying up for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He didn't miss anything. Professor Lupin had been absent for the first week of school, making the course itself all the more allusive and desirable. Nevertheless, Michael sat in the Common Room, pouring over all her books she had collected from the library about curses and proper defense.  
  
Michael and Elizabeth left with squared shoulders to their first class of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Both were determined to be the best in the class. However, it was going to be like going into a war zone with mines underneath the soil.  
  
Half of the Gryffindors would take DADA with the Slytherins. The irony of the situation was not lost on her, the Defense (Lions) Against the Dark Arts (Snakes). Dumbledore must be getting old or lost in idealism. Neither option was particularly good.  
  
They put up a façade of aloofness with all the whispers that had surrounded them at breakfast. Mostly her housemates had approached them with sympathetic words. But not all the whispers had sympathetic tones around her. Instead, she found that a lot of the whispers had to do with her father. She caught unsettling words and undercurrents she couldn't decipher.  
  
That very morning, as she was in the side room of the dormitory she shared with Sandy, Josephine, and two other girls, Julia and Abigail, she heard them talking about...how her father had had some kind of connection to You- Know-You.  
  
Elizabeth had given a start when she heard this whispered over the running water of the sink. She shouldn't have heard it at all. But it was like she was meant to. This was definitely not the intention of her dorm mates of course. She gazed at herself blindly in the mirror. My dad...connection with...She had crept toward the door to hear Sandy whispering.  
  
"Yeah, my dad had been a dorm mate with Harry Potter. He said that Potter had a kind of...mental link with You-Know-Who. It was really creepy. Years later, when Potter had finally defeated...him, using the link they had actually, strange things happened. He wouldn't tell me what though. He did tell me there had been a prophecy that Potter himself told them about. But, after the Potters were attacked, all the things went away and...well, my mum made me charm the dishes before he could finish," she sighed in frustration.  
  
Josephine piped up, "Elizabeth seems alright though."  
  
Sandy interrupted again, "I think so too! But, a couple of days later, I heard my parents talking downstairs after they thought my sister and I had gone to sleep. My dad said that certain dark magic things have been happening across the country. Like those things that happened back then. He said the...um...re--resurgence of dark magic came when, well, Elizabeth came back to the Wizarding World. Although he did say he didn't know if she directly connected. It might be a coincidence."  
  
Abigail Bones laughed, "That's some coincidence if you ask me! I have a relative that's on the Council at the Ministry of Magic, and she said that the Minister is really freaked out about Elizabeth being allowed back. Didn't you notice that weird mark on her arm? Now that's creepy!"  
  
She sighed, and then continued in a contemplative tone.  
  
"But, honestly, my great-aunt doesn't agree with the Minister's policies or his choice of advisers. Do you know that he let a Malfoy into the Council after that family was proven to be involved with all sorts of dark magic even necromancy?! This Malfoy was supposed to help in the war so. My mum said to be open-minded about Elizabeth when I owled her that I was rooming with her. My mum knew Harry Potter too. But she also said to use good judgment. You're right that she seems nice, but she does keep to herself."  
  
Julia spoke softly, "You know, things have been getting worse out of school. Raids have been happening more often lately; they hit even bigger towns. My brother's gotten articles from the Daily Prophet sent from home. They don't think the Deatheaters are acting alone in all the attacks now. There's a rumor that something big is going to happen. The Aurors caught a lot of dark wizards like necromancers and dark diviners from all over the world coming into the Ireland and Britain. The Ministry still doesn't know what's going on...and a few Dementors have disappeared from Azkaban."  
  
Elizabeth had decided to turn off the water and after arranging her face into a seemingly content manner, she walked into the room as if nothing had been heard. The girls had smiled warmly for the most part, but Abigail and Sandy went on to breakfast. Julia followed quickly. Only Josephine had stayed behind. Elizabeth made a mental note to go to the library as soon as she could to check up on those things that had happened. She would also have to remember to get a nightgown with long sleeves.  
  
The class had settled into a chat when Professor Lupin turned up later. The Slytherins sat near the back while the Gryffindors sat up front. She felt the burn of a silver gaze upon her back and didn't have to turn around to know who it was. She had seen him when she walked in. Michael turned to glare, his eyes showing the change that had taken place in him.  
  
"Those evil gits...can't wait to practice some defense spells on them," he said darkly.  
  
Elizabeth was near the door when Professor Lupin walked in and saw terrible dark shadows under his eyes. He looks sick. He must know about what happened...  
  
The class came to order upon his appearance and waited.  
  
Lupin smiled at them all, "I apologize for keeping you waiting. I'm Professor Lupin."  
  
A low howl arose from the back, but he pretended not to notice and continued to talk through the snickers.  
  
"Today I traditionally outline the course for you. You know we will be doing basic spells for you first years. And of course, I expect you to be open-minded, put in hard work, and I will do my best to teach you. But today I want to you think about the meaning of this class without the restrictions of your grades or former perceptions in mind."  
  
His eyes flickered toward the back for an instant.  
  
"Take out a piece of paper. No, Mr. Wood, you won't need you books. Just paper and a quill. I'm going to write some words on the board, and I want you to write out the meaning of each according to your perspective. Then we'll open a discussion."  
  
He turned towards the board and started writing. Dark Arts. White Magic. Beliefs. Human Nature. Morality. Words.  
  
After fifteen minutes of scratching quills, he cleared his throat, and everyone looked up at him.  
  
"Ms. Finnigan, what did you write down for the Dark Arts?"  
  
Sandy grinned, "Evil magic that causes harm or wrongs innocent people." Someone coughed near the back, covering a laugh.  
  
"Yes, that would be the most common idea of it. But in order to complete your answer, you would have to say what classifies as evil or good. So...what do you think is evil?"  
  
Sandy blushed, "Um, something with malicious intent."  
  
"But what is malicious intent? How clear is maliciousness to those doing the action? Do they view it as malicious?"  
  
"Well, they should!" Again, there was movement in the back row.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, what did you write down?"  
  
Michael gripped his quill tighter.  
  
"Nothing, sir."  
  
Professor Lupin creased his brow. "Surely you have some opinion on it?"  
  
"Why would I think on Dark Magic, sir?" Elizabeth heard the laughter behind his voice.  
  
"Then I have to question your presence in this class, Mr. Malfoy. If you're too fragile to think, you may leave."  
  
A cold voice answered back, "I'll sleep on it."  
  
"Ms. Potter, I hope you had more ease thinking than Mr. Malfoy here. What did you write down?"  
  
Elizabeth had hoped he wouldn't call on her. She just wanted to learn defense spells.  
  
"Um, actually, I questioned what makes magic dark?"  
  
Michael looked at her like she had two heads. Lupin arched an eyebrow.  
  
"I mean—I thought that any magic used to extremes to harm another could be called dark. But wouldn't that point more to the person using magic and the purpose of their usage? "  
  
Lupin studied her. "Yes, that's true. But some magic can't be used without doing harm. That's what we nominally call dark magic. No one should be studying it at all."  
  
Was that a flicker of light? No. It was a trick of her buzzing mind. Her eyes were getting heavy. She sunk down behind the statue, hoping for a signal from her fellow Marauders. She twirled a strand of red between her fingers in a fit of anxiety.  
  
The name had been Michael's idea. His dad had told him stories about a group of students who went to Hogwarts once, dedicated to the pursuit of mischief. However, this group was dedicated to guerilla warfare.  
  
Sandy, Daniel, Michael, and Elizabeth had discussed their plan full out. Everything had to be perfect. The Slytherins couldn't get away with what happened.  
  
Elizabeth knew why her friend was shaking and red-faced. Josephine had confided in her that she was terribly afraid of heights.  
  
"My father wanted me to fly so badly. He always said my mum could have been born with wings. She was a pure-blood. That's why she could—it's when I get up there. I start shaking so badly, and I can't breathe."  
  
Later on, she had said, "Why do we have to have that stupid class anyhow? And the Slytherins are going to laugh at me. That Malfoy girl's going to laugh at me."  
  
Now, Josephine couldn't get an inch of the ground on her broom. Her prediction came true. The Slytherins were laughing at her. Some of the Gryffindors were laughing as well, watching her struggle frantically not to fall off.  
  
Madam Hooch told her to get of her broom and wait to go into the air last to save time. Horrible suggestion really!  
  
Elizabeth was disappointed in herself. Flying felt so awkward, and she could relate with Josephine. Her breathes can sharp and rapid. She kept climbing upwards though. She couldn't give up. Not after Michael told her that her father was the youngest seeker in a century. What's wrong with me? I flew a bed for cripes sake! But she had almost died as well.  
  
So many things could go awry up here. If you fall...Lucina, an accessory from the Slytherin house who was permanently attached to Lilith, zoomed by her, smirking. Elizabeth had to cling wildly to the broom when Lucina had bumped her.  
  
Over her shoulder, she called to Elizabeth, "Is that the best you can do? Not like dear daddy, are you? Imagine what he'll say. Oh, sorry, he's dead, isn't he? I forgot."  
  
Elizabeth stared after her, gripping the broom so tight she thought it would snap. She felt like chasing after Lucina and perhaps...No. I won't let them make me be like them! The world was spinning, and she was painfully aware of the emptiness besides her and the fragile broom supporting her.  
  
Madam Hooch grabbed her arm.  
  
"Potter, you go ahead and land."  
  
Elizabeth thought she saw disappoint flash in her eyes.  
  
Now and then, her peers lowered themselves to the tedious and mortality- filled earth, tired off an exertion that she was foreign to. Then, Michael would zoom by with Daniel. He was focused on something else. He couldn't think about the things wrapped up in his mind. He had to outrun them. Elizabeth floated slowly to the ground, looking at them with some envy.  
  
Daniel and Michael raced by her again. Really, they should not have severed themselves from the matters on the ground completely. Then, they would have seen Lilith sliding up to Josephine, patting her back in dramatic sympathy, and stalking away.  
  
Hooch blew her whistle. They were on the ground once more. Everyone had managed to fly except for Josephine. Hooch dismissed the class. Most of the Gryffindors raced for the Great Hall for a well-needed lunch.  
  
Daniel, Michael, and Elizabeth remained. Only a few Slytherins left. Elizabeth assumed they wanted to watch Josephine grow red-faced and flustered. If only, she had known.  
  
Josephine gritted her teeth, determined to be able to fly. Just a little bit. Just a little like her mother.  
  
She flew straight up with a gasp. Then she smiled in triumph and relief. Elizabeth had cheered. Michael and Daniel had hollered. Hooch jumped on her broom, realizing before them, before Josephine, that something was amiss. But she was so far away. She was across the lake where some students had accidentally landed. Or not so accidentally! The broom carried Josephine so high that she seemed to disappear into the sun.  
  
Josephine jerked the broom madly, trying to gain control in vain. What was wrong?!  
  
The Slytherins were grinning like mad-hatters at the foreknowledge, the success, and the image of the little girl in the sun. Others looked on with some disgust but more indifference, striving towards acceptance in their House.  
  
Lilith stood out among them, her white hair flying around her head. She could have been an angel if it wasn't for the look in her eyes that revealed her to be the devil. The look of pride and self-righteousness without question tinged with pure malice. She had no question of her actions, driven by a belief that was pounded in her. Everything around her spoke of her birthright. The unspoken message among the mob...serves the half- blood right.  
  
Elizabeth clasped Michael's trembling hand. Daniel turned away, unable to bear the sight of Josephine being hurled about like a rag-doll. Hooch shot desperately through the air, and the broom shot faster. Josephine clung by her fingertips as the thing darted past the older woman. The towers became an obstacle course. The cursed wood had a mind of its own; it played a game of how close it could get to the brick, to the foreboding jutting tip of rusted iron before swerving at the last second. Then the inevitable happened.  
  
Josephine flew off the broom, clutching at the indifferent air, robes flapping around her like broken wings. Madam Hooch was still too far away.  
  
NO!  
  
Before she had become aware of the air whistling past her and the absence of Michael's hand, she had passed the blurred tower. Almost there! The broom was too slow. But that can't be. No matter how fast she willed it to go, it seemed as if it was loaded down with cold lead.  
  
Josephine's arm filled her vision. She had to get there. She saw her hand reach out in a blur.  
  
Missed her hands! NO!  
  
Elizabeth chased after the flailing figure. She prayed. Josephine's robes latched on to her hand. She turned the broom frantically upwards, biting her tongue so hard that a metallic taste filled her mouth. Then she felt the presence of the broom disappear and her hands were empty.  
  
Madam Pomfrey had made Daniel and Michael leave after an hour or so. Elizabeth suffered a broken arm, broken ankle, and some broken ribs. Josephine suffered a broken wrist and sprained ankle.  
  
She was still crying. But she would be alright. Her established fear of heights she never would shake. Her near-brush with death that would haunt her nights for years to come. She would be alright. All was well.  
  
Ironically, Josephine left the hospital ward earlier than her. It seems she broke Josephine's fall when somehow she had ended up underneath her. Elizabeth felt the stabs of Skelo-Grow throughout the day and into the next night. She found herself thinking about Lilith Malfoy. That girl...that soulless, black-hearted...  
  
Elizabeth spent a restless night in the uncomfortable but familiar bed. It was pure luck that she was so close to the ground when she fell. She had no finesse at flight like she previously had believed.  
  
Instead, every time she closed her eyes, she was falling towards the busy streets, bed sheets clasped in her hand. Horns would be blaring. She was limp like a rag doll, her mind blank. She followed the progress of the spinning bed above her as it started to catch up, threatening to crush her when she lands. But no matter, it wouldn't matter if a bed lands on her when she hits the ground.  
  
Every time she woke up, it was in the dark. Madam Pomfrey forgot to light the candles.  
  
Elizabeth sat there in silence in front of the fire, watching the shadows dance on her three friends faces and listening to the twelfth strike of the clock. It's twelve? She had stared at the flames for what seemed like a second. It was twelve o'clock.  
  
Michael stopped his pacing as the chime ended. The quiet waited for him to speak.  
  
"They can't get away with this. Those Slytherins could have killed you both!"  
  
The sound of her voice filled her ears.  
  
"It was Lilith Malfoy, Michael."  
  
Daniel lounged on the floor, his head in his arms. Staring at the ceiling, he said doubtfully, "What can we do? You know that that spell was way too advanced for first years. Pyro must have given them a hand. Heck, maybe it wasn't him. Any one from the third-years up would have been happy to see Josephine a spot on the ground. That's what we're dealing with here."  
  
Sandy darted up with a response, "No one can prove that those gits did anything!"  
  
Fight fire with fire. Wasn't that what life at an orphanage had pounded into her? An eye for an eye.  
  
Her eyes lit up. "The same thing applies to us! Let's say strange things started to happen to the Slytherins. How could they pinpoint us?"  
  
Daniel replied in a cynical voice, "Of course, they'd know it was the Gryffindors. No one else has the guts or the reason to mess with them."  
  
"Yeah, but how would they know it was us? You, me, Sandy, and Michael!"  
  
Michael smiled strangely, remembering the stories of his childhood, "My dad told me about this group of guys. There were four of them. They were the greatest. The Marauders played the best pranks and never got caught. They showed those snakes!"  
  
Daniel boosted himself off the ground, "How about a next generation of Marauders!"  
  
The two boys gave each other high-fives. "Those Slytherins better watch out! The Marauders are back with a vengeance!"  
  
Sandy looked thoughtful, "As long as we don't hurt anyone, I'm all for it. There has to be a limit. I don't want to become a git to beat a git!"  
  
Elizabeth said slyly, "I have just the thing for pranking. The ultimate weapon!"  
  
It was actually Elizabeth who hatched the plan with Michael's revisions. She surprised herself. Her thoughts had quickly adapted to mischief. Images popped into her head one after another. She was on fire.  
  
It was dawn when they finally set off towards their own dorms to sleep. Well, Elizabeth didn't. She watched the sunrise creep into the room, turning the curtains rose-colored. You'll always have a tie, a bond to Slytherin.  
  
The plan was simple and quite destructive. Of course, they wouldn't cross the line. Elizabeth's experience in the library had been the key. Those books were like animals. The leather pages would be perfectly docile until a fatal drop of ink grazed them. Then, it was brutal. The second key coming into play was Michael. This was personal to him. He challenged Pyrrhus Malfoy to a duel the day after their plotting. Malfoy didn't back down either. But no doubt, he would be bringing some of his gang along, Elizabeth knew the Slytherins were sneaky, so she begged Peeves (the most lively looking ghost to her... so she kept her cool) to cause utter chaos in the side of the castle furthest away from the local of the library so Filch wouldn't be lurking even . Madam Pince had a certain type of potion she put on the books to make them highly capable of flight. Also she used different potions to attract the books to the proper shelf. Getting the potion was difficult. Daniel volunteered to cause a ruckus in the library. When Madam Pince went to admonish and deal out some serious punishment, Elizabeth snatched the potion from her desk...in her father's invisibility cloak. Her favorite potion had been the one for the Invisible Books of Invisibility. While Michael lures the Slytherins into place with his showdown near the library, Elizabeth would sneak up and douse the Slytherins with the potion. Then, the rest would be magical.  
  
Those classes before the big plan that night were tough to stay focused in. Elizabeth was sorry because it was her first class with Hagrid. Care of Magical Creatures had been postponed. Although she often tried sneaking out of the castle later in the evenings to see what was going on with Hagrid, the main doors had been locked tight. That was strange in itself. At the beginning of the summer, the main doors remained unbarred and welcoming. It was after her encounter in the hospital wing with that shade and Dumbledore's warning that the doors became locked-tight.  
  
The day was chilly as the Gryffindors and Slytherins journeyed towards Hagrid's cabin. Elizabeth was glad her grandmother had owled her a Gryffindor scarf.  
  
The Slytherin group murmured behind her.  
  
"I heard he was a giant, one of those from the mountains. What kind of school is this when they allow that kind of trash to teach? We'll be luck if we get out alive!"  
  
"No, he's a half-giant and a drunken oaf. He's not dangerous...well, if it dangerous to be around total stupidity. It's Dumbledore who's the menace, allowing all sorts of riffraff in Hogwarts. My father says he should be fired and sent to St. Mungo's to be examined. Who would know he's a pureblood by the way he acts?"  
  
"Dumbledore's getting old. Hopefully he'll die soon, make the world a better place."  
  
At this last comment, Michael almost turned around to deck somebody. Thankfully, Hagrid came outside to greet them, waving.  
  
"Oh gods! Look at that oaf," Lilith hissed loudly.  
  
"Allo, 'irst years. 'Ve got somethin' special for the 'irst class."  
  
He waited for the snickering to pass.  
  
"Come 'his way!" Hagrid led them around his cabin to the back where there were crates.  
  
Elizabeth felt a surge of excitement. Hagrid had mentioned something about Griffins.  
  
"Go 'n. Pick a crate!" She approached the crate to find that inside it was... a worm.  
  
A guy next to her pretended to gag...or maybe he wasn't pretending, she wasn't sure.  
  
"'here's lettuce next to yer crate. All yeh 'ave to do is feed 'em!" Exciting.  
  
There was a mad rush to leave when class was over. Elizabeth went over to the slumping half-giant.  
  
"Hagrid, I loved the class!"  
  
"Yeh did?"  
  
"Well—um—yeah! Of course. But what about the Griffins?"  
  
Hagrid looked at her grimly as if tried to decide what to say.  
  
"'Hey all died. Of somethin'. Everythin' round here is. 'Very single creature I tried to 'aise here died 'cept the flobberworms. 'Ven Professor Sproat is 'aving trouble with her greenhouses. I had Olympe and me son move somewhere to the mountains. Seemed the best 'lace for 'em."  
  
Elizabeth was taken back.  
  
"What do you think it is? Did a sickness cause it?"  
  
Hagrid picked up the crates with a sigh, looking towards the ominous Forbidden Forest.  
  
"The creatures put 'emselves down. They sensed somethin' that we 'an't. Liz, stay inside the castle as 'ften as yeh can. Tell yer friends that too. Things are gettin' strange lately."  
  
It was rapidly becoming dusk as Elizabeth half-ran to the safety of the castle. Of course, she waited until she was out of sight of the cabin to start running. Hagrid offered to walk back with her along with his crossbow, but she assured him she'd be fine.  
  
Fear pushed her forward as the ground became a blur. She didn't know why, but it felt like all those animals' deaths she had something to do with. Maybe Sandy's father was right; all the chaos started when she returned. Maybe it had something to do with those marks on her body, the mark on her hand. Maybe it was the book, the snake-skin book.  
  
A flash of golden white appeared in the corner of her eye, and she skidded to stop. A young unicorn emerging from the forest slowly to the lake and began to drink. It was amazing. His coat caught the last rays of the setting sun behind the trees. A glow seemed to surround him, his innocence putting her at peace. She brushed some stray strands of hair out of her eyes, grateful to the creature that had lowered himself to the ground by the tree. She grew concerned as it remained there.  
  
Elizabeth walked slowly to the animal that was breathing heavy. Its eyes were half-open and yellowish, and it was gasping for some air.  
  
Hagrid had carried the foal to his cabin where he placed it on a straw bed near the fireplace. It continued to lay there although its pupils darted between his two rescuers.  
  
"Poor thin'. Wonder what 'appened to his mum? They 'sually don't wander around like that all 'lone when there 'oung."  
  
"Will he be alright?!" Elizabeth tried not to be hysterical and make the situation worse but the foal looked so ill. His coat wasn't as shiny at all now with a closer look; it was faded and even torn in some places.  
  
"'Aybe. If he eats right."  
  
Hagrid grabbed his crossbow and opened the door for her.  
  
"'Ve got to get yeh back to the castle. It's too dark for yeh to go 'lone."  
  
They walked in silence for awhile with the sounds of the crunching grass as their only other companion.  
  
Elizabeth turned to her protector, "Can I come a visit him some?"  
  
"Sure. 'm sure he'd like that. Only owl me before yeh come. I'll wait for yeh by the doors."  
  
"I was thinking about naming him Harry."  
  
Hagrid smiled with some sadness in his beetle black eyes.  
  
"That's a good, 'onorable name. It suits 'im."  
  
Elizabeth smiled, looking forward to nursing the foal back to health when she saw...him watching her through the window of the highest tower on the left side of the castle. It was him...those ineffable, tormented eyes. If it hadn't been for those eyes, she would have missed his shadowy figure entirely with the gray brick around him. Her green eyes were locked on to his, drawn to his. Everything disappeared...nothing else mattered. She hissed as her left hand throbbed with a jolt of pain. She could look away at last.  
  
"'Lizabeth, yeh alright? Yeh look so pale."  
  
It seemed like hours had pasted, but the connection only lasted a second.  
  
"I'm alright, Hagrid. I've just been writing so much lately."  
  
Elizabeth forced a smile through the growing agony. She didn't bother to ask Hagrid if he had spotted the young man at the window. She knew he couldn't.  
  
What's happening to me?  
  
Elizabeth found Michael in the corner of the darkly lit library, reading up for all the Potion work he missed.  
  
She rushed over and grabbed a seat next to him.  
  
"'ello," he apparently was snacking. "What's with the greasy bat anyway? I'll probably finish this rubbish when I'm fifty."  
  
"Michael, I don't think we should prank the Slyths tonight."  
  
Michael hissed at her, almost choking, "Excuse me?! I only challenged that git to a duel!! I can't back down now!"  
  
Elizabeth sighed. She knew that he would be hard to convince after how much he thought about that duel, but after she saw...  
  
She whispered, meeting his eyes, "Listen, I want to get those snakes back as much as you do. Heck, even more so as I was the one in the hospital wing. But, you know, with so much happening-"  
  
"Like what?! Oh, yeah. What happened to my mum. Now it's their turn."  
  
"Michael, it's not like Pyrrhus himself did that himself to your mother and all those people. Yeah, it might have been his father. Can he help who and what his father is any more than we can? I don't have a problem pranking him and his evil-clothed-in-flesh sister for their own offenses like the broom incident but not for something he didn't do."  
  
Michael sat back, dismayed. Then he turned bright purple with anger.  
  
"Oh, I see. If it's not about you, you don't care, right?"  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Look, the only reason I challenged that guy to avenge my sister! It wasn't about the broom. It was about everything. It was about them and their pureblooded crap and how they think they're gods and can hurt people just because!"  
  
"Well, I just lost you! You say I won't do it because it's not about me. That's not true. Yes, whoever did that to your mum deserves hell. But, we have no access to those people."  
  
"Yes, we do! Through their little princes and princesses, their little joys. That's how we can get to them!"  
  
He sounded so angry.  
  
"Michael, your mum wouldn't want you to hurt others for her. I know she wouldn't. This is just a relatively harmless prank. They could get bruised but nothing more than that...We were just going to scare them, that's all. We don't want to become them."  
  
"Oh, aren't you bloody Ms. Righteous all the sudden. All about honor now, are we?"  
  
I think Sandy said something like that too!  
  
"We are Gryffindors! Honor and bravery, etcetera...don't' you remember?"  
  
Elizabeth didn't even know how this argument got started. She just wanted to postpone the prank. It was no big deal. She had forgotten about the whole duel thing, but that mistake she blamed on her stalker.  
  
She relented, "I know you have to face him. Okay, let's do it tonight."  
  
"Like I need your permission! It's going to happen tonight no matter what! And by the way, you need to sort out your attitude! You don't have to be so selfish."  
  
"Michael, you know I didn't mean anything-"  
  
"No, I don't. I don't really know you too well. I do know that you like getting attention."  
  
He's using Snape's words against me! He can't really think that, can he?  
  
"I do not like getting-"  
  
"You always have to know everything; you always have to be perfect. To top it off, every teacher, adult, whoever always respects you because of your dad. Well, mine fought too. A lot of peoples' did."  
  
She felt like he had punched her right in the face. She couldn't get her voice together.  
  
"O-okay."  
  
"You weren't even there for me! Daniel was, and he's not even related to me! You know, I wish my aunt hadn't even married a Potter! He's the reason she died."  
  
She felt her whole body go numb then hot.  
  
"You think you don't have to say a lot. What do you think you are better than us?! That's why people talk about you...they're not talking about how great your father was or how smart you are!"  
  
I never thought that was why...  
  
Michael stared at her red-faced, waiting for a reaction.  
  
"I'll still help tonight. I do have my father's invisibility cloak; heaven knows what good that'll do. I'll meet you in the Common Room around eleven. Now, I've got to go suck up to a professor or two. I might even lick the dungeon floor. It looked a bit spotty."  
  
Before Madam Pince cursed them both, Elizabeth grabbed her bag and left.  
  
She kept her word. She met Michael, Daniel, and Sandy with the potion in hand and invisibility cloak intact. The others noticed the palpable tension between the two as they made their way down the hall, huddled under the cloak.  
  
Daniel broke away from the group, Filibusters in tow towards the opposite end of the castle, weaving in between the statues. Peeves said he would cause a distraction but just in case he would try and rat them out, Daniel would draw him to his area. He already had a hiding place behind a sliding statue all picked out.  
  
Sandy would stand by if things got out of control with a quick stupefy. She's also the lookout. She had a charm in handy to blend in, supposedly with the walls. Interesting...  
  
When Sandy gave the signal, Elizabeth would ambush the unaware Slyths, and they would retreat to the Common Room, nice and safe.  
  
It should work out okay.  
  
So here she was, hiding behind Uric the Oddball, trying to calm herself down. Thinking about how she thought she saw a light, then thinking she didn't after all.  
  
Wait, there is a— Then the world moved. She fell to the ground. The window across from her was illuminated, on fire. Steadying herself, she struggled towards the window.  
  
Looking out, she saw that Hogsmeade was an inferno, the lights of the fire reflected on the water of the lake.  
  
Other heads of children her age and older started to emerge from the windows adjacent to her, pointing and screaming.  
  
McGonagall's voice roared throughout the halls, amplified.  
  
"Perfects, gather your housemates and move to your designated safety room immediately!"  
  
Elizabeth started to panic; they weren't in the Common Room. How would they find the safety room?! Michael, Daniel, Sandy, and even Pyrrhus! Everyone was in danger!  
  
Clutching her father's cloak, she lumosed her way through the corridors, robes billowing out behind her.  
  
It was hard to run with the floor rumbling and the walls shaking. Stone walls were shaking. What could cause this?! Hogwarts is supposed to be impenetrable!  
  
The air was getting thick again. Not again! Leaning against the wall, she tried to gain her bearings. Everything was spinning.  
  
She felt a hand steady her. Someone half-pulling, half-carrying her into a corridor. Who? She was shoved into darkness. No! Then there was some light flickering in the corner.  
  
She was placed on something soft. A bed, a couch? She saw a red gaze above her, a pale face framed by dark hair. Then she drifted off.  
  
http:www.fictionalley.org/schnoogle/reviews/showthread.php?threadid=13326 


	6. Lazarus 5: Changes in the Wind

"The weak disappear from this world...that is how life works.  
It will continue doing so...for the sake of one man!!"  
Naruto Vol. 17 Chapter 146  
  
"I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.  
"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat. "We're all mad here."  
Lewis Carroll  
  
"Not a demon. Not a human either. No place to belong. So...I thought the only way was to carve out your own place, by force. That's how I survived.  
And by the time I knew what was happening, I was all alone."  
Inu-Yasha: A Feudal Fairytale  
Volume 12  
by Rumiko Takahashi  
  
"He had taken the highest seat amongst the devils of the land-I mean, literally. You can't understand. How could you?-with solid pavement under your feet, surrounded by kind neighbors ready to cheer you or to fall on you, stepping delicately between the butcher and the policeman, in the holy  
terror of a scandal and gallows and lunatic asylums-how can you imagine what particular region of the first ages a man's untrammeled feet may take him into by the way of solitude-utter solitude without a policeman-by the way of silence-utter silence, where no warning voice of a kind neighbor can be heard whispering public opinion? These little things make all the great  
difference. When they are gone you must fall back upon your own innate strength, upon your own capacity for faithfulness. Of course you may be too much of a fool to go wrong-too dull even to know you are being assaulted by the powers of darkness. I take it, no fool ever made a bargain for his soul with the devil: the fool is too much of a fool or the devil too much of a  
devil-I don't know which."  
  
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad pg. 82  
  
Chapter 5: Changing of the Winds  
  
She gazed thoughtfully down at the silver pool as her Penseive flowed almost to the top. Now she relied on her own memories to dwell on. Dumbledore once told her that his old mind was so full of memories that sometimes he felt submerged as the thoughts retouched around his graying head. At the time, she didn't understand but now... Laughing, she understood now why she had been drawn to the flame, Him. Despite the instinct to stay away, she found to her dismay that invariably she needed him. Some people love with restraint...  
  
For all his arrogance and darkness that hung like tangible curtains in his wake, she saw him as...still didn't know. Someone who was more revealed to her than all her possible companions and friends. Someone deeply flawed and scarred, with more than a little blindness in his rage...at others, of course. As if they were someday to hate...  
  
He couldn't be wrong, be the one wrong in his existence for if he was, he would unravel. Sure, the whole time from start to finish, he thought he had her fooled, blinded, and strung on the web of his all so powerful words. He believed and still does no doubt that he tricked her like he had her mother and so many wandering sheep. Not so... although he had control, he did not have what he wanted for she had known what he was. She saw through him. But we hated gently, carefully...  
  
When he had gathered the last bits of his scattered and acidic memory, (the memory of a past not worth remembering) he must have laughed at the déjà vu, at the revenge handed so eagerly towards him on a platter.  
  
The fiasco years ago was merely a delay of the inevitable. That boy couldn't escape him. No one could. Hadn't he said so? Now what should have been will be. Some would have coined the term fate by now. Not him. (Because only the weak believed in such trash)He knew that his power, his presence was the source of their undoing and his new beginning. He was power. What fools they all were...walking into death....to think he would be banished by a child with a toy sword. Here he was with control over another red-headed innocent, except this time, she had those eyes, those eyes that he would make sure reflected that pain that he had been failed to be the cause of before.  
  
Harry Potter gained some of the immortality that belonged to me...stole from me... through his own fool of a daughter, I will have it back and those left will remember me as I decide who deserves to breathe...they will know only...  
  
She cut him off there in media res. Oh, yes. How very rude of him indeed to leave such thoughts to her as a parting gift, some mockery of a valentine. How could she not pity him? As if we were someday to love...  
  
Venus Trines at Midnight by Linda Goodman  
  
A persistent stinging drags her dutifully from her sleep, her mind floundering like an overgrown fish on a hook. The first facet of reality she was aware of was that her hand had fallen asleep and now was being pinpricked by tons of needles. Then, like an on-coming train wreck, hit the other truth, her ignorance. For, she did not know where she was.  
  
Elizabeth flung herself upright from the couch she had been placed, tangled in a mossy green covers, breathing without drawing in any air. She drowned in the darkness. The few torches gave the illusion that the whole room was moving or was it an illusion at all? She felt her body tilt in step. Looking at the undulating motion made her sick.  
  
She was startled as she heard someone whimper and even more so when she realized that she was that someone. Trying to gather herself, her hand gratuitously flew to her neck in order to clasp—  
  
Her mother's necklace was gone.  
  
For what must have been only a few minutes but what seemed like eternity, she stared at the vacant indention in her neck as though expecting the small bird to fly back to its proper place. She felt her thoughts becoming more disoriented, her composure looking for the nearest exit. The closest tangible connection she had with her mother was gone; the something her mother and father both held in their hands, the one thing that made them exist with her rather than be print in a book or names on a stone had been taken from.  
  
Nausea assaulted her. Grasping the covers tightly, so tightly she thought her fingers would fall off, despair and something ineffable began to float up from the well within. Her crying echoed throughout the dungeon. She knew it was ridiculous but without her small necklace which she had began to fancy as a ward against the maliciousness of her past, a promise of happiness in the future, and an embrace from some part of her parents that had not left quite yet...without her necklace, she felt helpless.  
  
Something was dripping in the corner, a continuous and steady laughter at her. Something crouched in the corner, waiting...  
  
It was quite possible I won't move from this spot that I'll just fade here.  
  
She was in trouble and was not dealing other kids. Maybe not even the ghost guy who she thought she saw. Whoever had brought her here was real; he was real enough to steal from her.  
  
She was only a first year, only a kid. She did not understand.  
  
Nymphadora Tonks flew towards Hogwarts at break-neck speed.  
  
Can't Apparate, couldn't get in through Floo Powder!  
  
The barrier around Hogwarts was weakening rapidly though, might be able to... I wish Moody was here!  
  
He would have figured it out quicker...he would have seen through....  
  
But Alastor Moody was not here nor was he anywhere she could reach him. He survived it all; that guy survived the whole war. He took on masses of Death Eaters, turned Aurors, even challenged You-Know-Who although he was half dead at the time. Thank Goodness that Potter had been there.  
  
The point where Old Mad Eye grew tired was when Potter and that poor, little boy disappeared. He had been the first one at the Potter house in Devonshire, the first one to banish the two (or was it three?) unaccounted for Dementors. He was the first one to dig through the rumble and see seven- year old Elizabeth Potter illuminated by that thing only he saw in the sky, crying and grasping her mother's body. When Remus appeared, the thing in the sky was gone.  
  
Remus was the one to take the hysterical child to St. Mungo's.  
  
The tragedy took away a part of them all. The Weasleys...the Order...Dumbledore, oh, the look on his face when he was told! Harry Potter had been like a son to him, although he was careful not to act like he had any sort of bond. He kept his distance for Harry's safety and for his own health. Tonks didn't blame him. Dumbledore's real and only son died very young.  
  
Mad Eye Moody himself was also close to Potter in a similar and yet very different way.  
  
Moody shaped Harry to become a warrior. A quite gifted one at that! Also, he feared for him in a way that many of them could relate to. In war, Right and Wrong become confused; you had to think...no, know what you were capable of doing and know how far you could go and still come home, sleep at night, live with yourself, and cherish the simple things. That was the hard part most of the time, to know who you were and not become what you fought against. She had long ago banished the idea of black and white, good and evil...truth or evil. That wasn't the way the world worked. There were shades of gray, and she had tight-walked most of the variations of the familiar, non-descript color. Gray always reminded her of a moth coming to eat away at the fabric of your life. She made a point of wearing vivacious color. She had felt herself slip; it would be fascinating to any outsider to observe the gradual changes of character in the Ministry. It would be a fascinating read.  
  
At first, Moody was suspicious of the boy and suspicious of the man he would become. If anyone knew about slipping, it was Alastor Moody. Tonks trusted him but never truly knew him. He kept his distance under his leadership. She was always with a Moody who was constantly...She couldn't imagine who he was before he became an Auror.  
  
The one person who crossed the miles of barricades, curses, and rabid Manticores was Harry Potter. Potter knew Moody, and Moody knew Potter.  
  
During the summers spent training, an understanding grew between the two men as well as Harry's skill. Moody became Harry's mentor, a standard, and a figure of respect. Of course, it wasn't like Remus's and Harry's relationship or the Weasleys's and Harry's relationship or any mere camaraderie in the face of battle. Moody always said that in battle, that is when you know a man. But then again, the only thing close to describing Potter and Moody was their understanding of each other. Yet that word only or any word at all couldn't describe it. It seemed that Harry Potter was Mad Eye's last chance for redemption; if Potter turned out decent, then he helped create something good.  
  
When Potter died, Moody died inside.  
  
The only good thing near the end of his life was the way he died...no, Moody himself would have been enraged. He claimed he would die in the mist of a great battle, the Battle. That's the end he thought he deserved and what his lifestyle called for. The end he got was a peaceful one, soundly asleep for once in a chair in front of the hearth. Even his magical eye was closed and still.  
  
If only he was here now...  
  
Tonks was at Grimmauld Place after the attacks increased.  
  
Kingsley had left after debriefing them about Dumbledore's latest orders, to prepare to be infiltrated into the Hogwarts's community of students. Of course, Remus was obviously exempt from the group. The idea was to take frequent doses of aging potion, then some polyjuice potion (good recipe for a stomach ulcer in Tonks's opinion), then become a student in order to guard the children more effectively without disrupting the learning process. The other order for Remus and Fletcher struck a horrified chord in the midst of the trio.  
  
Dumbledore said guard the Wizarding cemetery with that tomb.  
  
Shacklebolt left Remus there with her alone. His...condition...had been getting worse for him, physically and mentally. He thought he was a burden. If only he knew that he was what was keeping her going, really. This war would never end. Dumbledore had known that, Moody had known that, and now she knew. Her only fond time was sitting and talking with Remus about books mainly. Funny, she had never been much fond of books or words or language before. She had begun to truly read when she met him. She began to appreciate the beautiful sound and power of words especially his words. She wished she could communicate. She really wished she wasn't so clumsy; her "condition" increased ten-fold when he was around. Maybe that's why he thought...  
  
Then, Mundungus Fletcher Apparated with a bang, followed by the crash of the cup she dropped in surprise. Damn...  
  
"They're goin' to attack Hogsmeade!"  
  
Well, not really. Now she knew.  
  
Mundungus had heard the word from the words of a young nineteen year old boy, fresh out of Hogwarts and drunk as hell. Mundungus and the said boy were at the biggest breeding place of scum and lowlifes in Britain, sometimes called the Pit, the Lair, or the Spider; the blemish of the Wizarding World is correctly called the Necro for Necropolis. It was such a fitting name for a place that gives false hope and lies to a lost bunch. A place that stood for excused violence on a grand scale and people who mulled around blind-a common state for those among us taking on extreme darkness. Ironically, it was very well-hidden near the Ministry of Magic. Mundungus called it his office.  
  
Yes, his sales always skyrocketed there. There, they had fights. Not among the humans, but among animals. The favorite was a battle between a fatally normal stray and a Runespoor or a Manticore. Tonks saw it as an articulation of the desired relationship between the Magical World and the Muggle one.  
  
Mundungus didn't even want to be stationed there at first. He became acclimated to the place, whatever its pull was. Sometimes, he made excuses to go to the Necro.  
  
But it was vital because not all Death Eaters were affluent and well-set in life. Loads were hidden in the Ministry and in mansions but even more were hidden in the underworld. Such places like the Necro had taken off when Grindelwald began to recruit those out of the loop in society for whatever reason; this trend continued even more fiercely under You-Know-Who's reign. These people, mostly youth, in the Necro believed they had not been given their proper dues by the current community. Most claimed that Mudbloods and half-breed trash had taken opportunities and dreams that belonged to them by birthright. The magical community was corroded with contamination, and they would be the ones to banish the scum who had persecuted their ancestors.  
  
In actuality, their words were hollow. Among her recent readings, Muggleborns were scarcely considered in a Ministry fraught with prejudice. Thus, the problems that lot howled about had no direct correlation with Mugglified infiltration but with intrigues and scandals deep-rooted in the Ministry. The papier-mâché Minister chose blindness.  
  
Muggleborns had a fleeting moment of great respect when a great number fought against the Dark Lord. With Harry Potter as their supporter, they gained influence unimagined before despite the Ministry's frequent yet futile attempts to silence them. Silence them in the most dignified methods possible without resorting to any acts of unpleasantness. False charges against the most reputable of Muggleborns arose with incriminating letters communicating and plotting with the brutish Muggles on the other side. The Daily Prophet was the biggest supporter of these ridiculous falsities, keeping the community in a panic and the prejudice brewing. When Potter disappeared, the Muggle-born respect flittered away like the brief, brief candle we all hear about.  
  
She remembered her mother, Andromeda Melphomene Freya Tonks. A dark woman always filled with light and a fierce independence. The woman who wasn't enslaved by old ideas. The real person in a family molded by Pride, the original sin.  
  
As a half-born, Tonks had experienced prejudice. Somewhere along the way, she became apathetic towards the whole situation. It was a presence without any image but an idea to it. Her first day of pre-witches training school was full of old ideas. She was only five, only two years younger than the Elizabeth Potter who clung to her mother's body that dark day in the future.  
  
Young children tend to be less aware of the ideas but more impacted by them. The world is so bright and blessedly blurry when you're young. Then you trade your plastic rose colored glasses in for the real deal, grown-up pair of sharp lenses. The world becomes strident and harsh. You saw every blemish and disease, but by the time you figured out that you've been cheated, there's no going back. You didn't read the fine print on your binding contract with adulthood.   
  
In the small village, pre-witch training fliers made their mark on every wall and crevice. She picked a pink sheet up with her small fist and begged her mother to enroll her. Mother looked at her small child in surprise. Her Nymphadora was rather timid and constantly attached to the end of her robes. Her husband told her to go ahead and give the program a try. Nymph was gifted only a little clumsy but that was nothing age and the accompanying grace wouldn't fix. Look who she had for a mother, the epitome of grace and finesse.  
  
Indeed. In Tonks's memory, her mother would forever be linked to the feline qualities she possessed. Her fluidity and supple grace was only matched by her cleanliness and aristocratic nature. Her midnight black hair framed her sapphire eyes that could be watchful, somewhat judgmental at times, and deeply understanding. It was strange that her mother embodied a sort of innocence and yet could have a worldly and commanding air.  
  
Andromeda grew enthusiastic about her little Nymphadora becoming refined and more sociable with children her own age.  
  
She gripped her mother's hand tightly, becoming queasier as the approached the small house that seemed to grow into a fire-breathing beast that craved children. The blue flowers in front were doxy fairies in disguise. The seemingly harmless yard gnomes were locked in a conspiracy that would commence as soon as her mother disappeared around the corner.  
  
The first day was wonderful. They learned some Latin and read a lot about the greatest witches and wizards who ever existed. Best of all, her clumsiness had taken a day off! Mrs. Lockhart, an older, wizened witch adorned in a gaudy, forget-me-not blue dress not meant for wear, instructed her young pupils grandiosely, constantly waving her bejeweled hands and imparting proverbs of wisdom in a sing-song voice. Nymphadora thought she was pretty and kind. The day came to an end much too soon. Nymphadora was near the rear of the excited line of scrambling children, holding on to the moving picture her mother had given her of the two of them together in case she got homesick. Someone tapped her shoulder sharply. The small girl looked up to see the blond teacher looming over her. Her blue eyes were slightly yellowish on closer inspection and not as sparkling as previously believed.  
  
"Sweets, would you mind terribly if I kept you for a minute or two?"  
  
By Merlin, no! No doubt her mentor was going to praise her for her extensive knowledge of Morgan La Faye whom her mother told her the Black family was related too! Or maybe it was a comment on her advanced reading skills. Or her surprisingly organized, tidy appearance!  
  
"My dear, what was your last name? I'm afraid I must have misheard you before".  
  
"Nymphadora Tonks, Mrs. Lockhart." The curly headed brunette child beamed up at her teacher.  
  
"Tonks." The bubbly blonde's voice lowered drastically from its former falsetto.  
  
"Yes, ma'am!" Nymphadora beamed even wider.  
  
"Oh...dear me. Sweetheart, you didn't read the fine print, did you?"  
  
She floated over to her desk, plucking a familiar pink flier from her pink bag. Returning to loom over the thoroughly confused girl, she shoved the flier into one of the girl's small hands and pointed out a previously unnoticed bunch of miniscule letters that looked more like scratches than a message of any sort.  
  
"You see here, then, sweets."  
  
The 'sweets' had taken on a different tone now. She tensed as she realized it was condescension. How she knew she couldn't say because she had never been put down or patronized before. Her awareness was simply an instinct awakening in her.  
  
"No..." She couldn't make out the words even squinting as hard as she could.  
  
"It states quite clearly that only pure-blooded children are allowed to attend my program. I suppose your mother must have missed the listed requirements, bless her."  
  
"Pure-blooded?" She hadn't heard the term before in her home. What was wrong with her blood? Was it tainted? Was she sick?  
  
"My pet, you don't know what....hmmm, I see." The woman had started to laugh in disbelief.  
  
Tonks was becoming alarmed about the state of her blood, already feeling it coursing diseased through her body. She wished her teacher would articulate and tell her what was wrong and how she could fix it. She'd do anything.  
  
Mrs. Lockhart carefully secured the flier in the girl's hands after she had underlined the dreadful yet clear message with her peacock-feathered quill.  
  
Tonks hesitated at the door way covered with violent flowers, shocked at the declaration of her lack of purity and rightness.  
  
Mrs. Lockhart grasped her trembling shoulders before pushing her forward.  
  
"Your mother will explain it to you, sweets. Now hurry home. I'm sure she's waiting for you."  
  
She had never run faster in her life, home-made spotted cloak flapping behind her. She had to get home and inform her mother of her terrible condition. Would her mother be disappointed though?  
  
Breathing heavily through her sobs and clasping her chest, Nymphadora stopped a little ways from her house which was on the outskirts of the village. Her house that was once cozy and fully of nice scents changed into a being of a dreadfully dark and forbidden nature. How could she go home and tell her parents that there was something horribly wrong with her, something so bad that it couldn't be risked for her to be around other children?  
  
She crouched down by the walkway, concealed in some shrubbery. She slipped away in her staring at the treacherous village, the monument to her now- broken life. She was going to run away! She couldn't be a burden to her parents, and besides what if they caught what she had?  
  
Nymphadora Tonks cried. Soon, though, she would have to get up and find somewhere else to go. She saw the pink flier through blur of her tears. How she hated the color!  
  
The light was disappearing from the sky as she crawled out from under her hiding place, ready to set out. Abandoning the strikingly pink message of doom, she grasped the picture in her hand and looked at the two smiling faces one last time.  
  
"NYMPHADORA EUPHROSYNE TONKS! WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING, YOUNG LADY!" A shrill voice broke her silent goodbye.  
  
Her mother stood over her, angrier than she had ever seen her. She must know! Nymphadora Euphrosyne Tonks knew she should flee for her mother's safety, but she couldn't. As selfish and dirty as she felt, she wanted her mother to hold her.  
  
Andromeda Tonks carried her hysterical child towards the house as fast as her legs would carry her. She had to contact her husband for their Nymph must be ill to cry so.  
  
The pink flier snagged on the thorny branches flapped in the wind, refusing to yield and remaining to serve as a reminder. It would remain there for awhile afterwards until an older version of the small hand that had clenched it so before discovered it and threw it away in the rubbish bin.   
  
As she grew up, she preferred to go by her surname although she allowed her mother to call her Nymphadora during the last years they had together. Her mother cooed that the name Nymphadora had been in the Black line forever, at the very beginning in fact. Tonks spared her beautiful and proud mother the knowledge that she didn't give a Kneazle about that side of her. Why be a part of people who wouldn't be a part of you?  
  
Andromeda strived to banish her parents and her sisters from her head and begin a new life with Ted Tonks, the man her showed her true happiness. Though Tonks remembered seeing her gloomy at certain points of her life, bogged down by memories of the past, she remembered more her cheerfulness and kindness. Andromeda never let her child see her remorse for her lost sisters especially her twin. Tonks was always supposed to have been tucked away in her bed when her parents stayed up. It helped to know her mother's remorse wasn't another word for regret. Her parents were two drowning people who had taught each other to swim.  
  
Yet, though Andromeda forgot her sisters, her sisters did not forget her. At the beginning of the Dark Lord's reign, the small house she knew as a child with pleasant scents and memories engrained in the wood would be cinders.  
  
Tonks became an Auror like her father.  
  
She also became a philosopher of sorts. Not really. She kept her thoughts to herself. True, she talked quite a bit and saw herself as the support system of any tag team she was placed in. Well, she could lighten the mood before people got crazy under the pressure that comes hand in hand with being an Auror. But, when things grew quiet, she was alone; she couldn't help but wonder at them all. The shear madness of everyone today and not just Death Eaters but Aurors as well! Maybe she was a little mad too. Her father, on the other hand, was not. Whenever she was at the breaking point, she conjured up his face in her head. He had the brightest eyes that she, a Metamorphmagus, couldn't even mimic; they were such an endless blue, a forget-me-not blue. He questioned them all.  
  
Here's a theory, Dad.  
  
The conflicts that simmered since the before time of Salazar Slytherin cemented a link with the Muggle World; in the Muggle World, violence and madness broiled constantly, the same as the Magical one. Her mother was the one who told her about the well. Somewhere inside every man and woman is a well of their spirit. A well so deep it can not be fathomed. Magical people feel it though; it is the source of all their power. If you close your eyes, you could envision that well, become in tune to the gentle water within. Muggles can't hear the well; they had grown apart from themselves. Now, some magical people have lost touch with the rhythm too; although they perform acts of magic, they do not perform magic, no matter what they decide to call their acts.  
  
Muggleborns are those who were destined to be Muggles but heard the well. Now, as the spirit corrodes, the precious contents in the well begin to sour. And when hard times are upon you, you could fill that it begins to simmer and becomes the indomitable human soul. But humans with desire to control and surpass the spirit of the well become poisoned. In their search for the truth they want to see, they feed upon lies of their own egotism. The poison is through the ground all humans share when a man wants to prove his importance by destroying his fellow men. It is the ultimate act of godhood, to control another life. Yet there is the anchor of mortality in false godhood. In the process, they can no longer hear the well. Poison is what doomed them all. Each well has the ability to become poisoned; it is harder to maintain order then it is chaos.  
  
When you see all these Death Eaters or anyone else for that matter commit such atrocities that you become obsessed with distancing your self, claiming that they are inhuman. The distance keeps your relation to them foreign. But the idea that they are human...well, that idea will keep you up at night, wondering about yourself.   
  
Hogsmeade was an inferno, echoing all the rage felt by the Death Eaters. The Apparated Tonks felt the heat before she even saw the flames. She felt the pain first.  
  
"Gaaaaa!!!!"  
  
Every muscle was one fire. Down she went, her nails digging in her shoulders as she held herself, begging that the pain went away. She went even further down, almost blacking out. Dots swarmed around the corners of her eyes. Distantly through the fog descending rapidly on her, she heard other yelps and screams beside her as her fellows fall into the same trap, her unable to warn them.  
  
Can't breathe, can't think!  
  
As she shut down to the pain, she felt the silken melody of her mother's voice. The words were unreachable but singing her some lullaby buried in her past. Then came Moody's voice.  
  
Are you that weak to let them beat you?! Haven't I taught you anything at all? Get on your feet, Auror!  
  
It felt as if a scratchy blanket was on her, smothering her. She had to throw it off. But it was so heavy. She was so tired. It would be so nice...not to worry...to give in...  
  
ON YOUR FEET!!  
  
Pulled downward, she told him to piss off. He got to leave, so what the hell did he know? Sinking through layers of comfortable... familiar water... freshly dried blankets warmed by the sun... cinnamon-like, home where something was cooking...  
  
She's getting close to the well, close enough to hear it murmuring. What do you know, Mum was right...  
  
Not yet...go back.  
  
Back to the pain again! The pain had her on a hook, pulling her back towards the surface of her now inflamed consciousness. Tingling running throughout her body, she struggled and felt the blanket slip...almost there! It hurt even worse when the pain was gone. Its aftermath still weakening her body, she stumbled to where Remus and Fletcher were lying prone on the ground.  
  
Remus!!  
  
"Finite Incantatem!"  
  
Nothing...Fletcher's chest wasn't moving...Remus...  
  
Drastic times called for drastic measures.  
  
"Mucronis acutis!" Tonks roared, aiming at the softest place the spell would do the least damage.  
  
"BLOODY HELL!" Fletcher jerked awake, frantically rubbing his backside. "WHAT IN—"  
  
Tonks pushed him to the side; he fell face-first on the ground, dirt billowing around him.  
  
Leaning over the gray-haired man, she lifted his head gently, gazing at him so intently his face started to blur in front of her.  
  
"R-Remus," she whispered as if not to wake him from sleep, not if he was...  
  
"You stupid idiot! You're goin' to smother him!"  
  
Mundungus grabbed Remus from her embrace. Tonks felt her anger rear up. Remus groaned.  
  
"See! He's breathing!"  
  
Mundungus looked up as if to scold then froze, gaping.  
  
Tonks spun around, almost falling over. A vision of Death! The Death Eater was illuminated against the flames, tilting his head to the side. She could feel his smirk through his mouth less, marble mask. How unreal it was to see humanity through that unnatural mask!  
  
Moving to her hand to her side, she grabbed for her wand—nothing!  
  
Looking away just slightly, she spotted her wand; the Death Eater placed his boot on it and crushed it into pieces.  
  
He raised his own wand with flourish.  
  
"Stupefy!"  
  
The dark-clad figure dropped to the ground. In his place stood Madam Rosmerta, standing haughtily with her hands on her hips, bun collapsed and hanging around her ears.  
  
"You lot dare harass my customers! You've got another thing coming!"  
  
Rosmerta limped forward, one of the heels on her lime green shoes splintered, bellowing and waving her hands hysterically.  
  
"You, Aurors! Are you daft?! Come by this morning, promising some new barrier, good for business, he says! Customer friendly, he says! JUST LOOK AT THIS! I DEMAND COMPENSATION FOR THESE DAMAGES! WE WERE FINE WITH THE OTHER DAMN BARRIER! FIRST DEMENTORS, NOW—YOU WON'T BE SATISFIED TIL YOU RUN ME OUT OF BUSINESS! IT'S A CONSPIRACY!!"  
  
"Silencio, you old bat," Mundungus said in an urgent voice, finally locating his splintered wand with his fumbling hands.  
  
"Wait! What new protection barrier?!"  
  
The gnomes weren't out of the garden. Something was up. She wasn't informed about any new barrier.  
  
"It's a bunch of nonsense! She's gone nutters on us."  
  
Mundungus glared with unusual ferocity at the haggard witch who kept motioning rude gestures at him and mouthing something promising violence.  
  
The look in Fletcher's beet-red eyes gave her a fierce uneasiness. Tonks slowly got to her feet, trying to act composed.  
  
She walked to the blown about fragments of her now-desired wand, shaking slightly on her weakened legs.  
  
"Fletcher, come on!"  
  
Mundungus flinched, seemingly startled by the order.  
  
"Come now, let's not be hasty! Shouldn't we go to the Ministry first?"  
  
Remus appeared with healing herbs in his hand.  
  
"They most likely know and have sent re-enforcements there."  
  
"Maybe we should go to Hogwarts!" Tonks saw a pair of trust-filled green eyes.  
  
"No! I mean—no, you guys should go on to Hogsmeade. Hogwarts got Dumbledore and his staff, not to mention the strongest barrier in all of Britannia. Think of all those poor people." Mundungus forced a big, cavity-friendly smile, his tired eyes showing fresh fear.  
  
Oh for—there isn't time for this! Tonks was about to introduce Fletcher to her fist.  
  
Remus, sensing the danger, quickly said, "No matter how emotional we are, we must be professional. Hogsmeade is the first priority, then Hogswarts." He caught her eye. "She'll be alright."  
  
"Then it's all settled then! Go get them!" Mundungus started to slowly shuffle backwards.  
  
Tonks grabbed Fletcher by the cloak, brandishing her wand menacingly.  
  
"Look here you!"  
  
Fletcher put up his hands.  
  
"Okay, okay! Keep your hair on! I'm goin'."  
  
Mundungus...  
  
Tonks changed her course towards the fallen figure. His wand was still in his gloved hand. She glanced behind her.  
  
The Madam had completely advanced upon Mundungus, gritting her teeth and balling her fists, dancing around him as best she could on one heel.  
  
Fletcher looked coldly at her, shaking his head vehemently at her silenced accusations. Remus had pushed himself up on his elbows, his eyes glazed.  
  
She did something Moody always advised. She looked around.  
  
Through the smoke, she spotted the dark cloaks and flashes of white of the Death Eaters, but they were growing smaller. They were leaving. At the height of the chaos, they were leaving. When the force of the Aurors had been successfully, they were leaving.  
  
Her mind churned painfully, aware of nothing else. Why Hogsmeade? It was obvious why, to cause fear. But when Aurors were about with more force and infiltrating the underworld, why risk petty attacks? To divide and conquer...to distract from the real quarry!  
  
She reached the still figure and picked up the wand.  
  
Fletcher raised his wand at Rosmerta who had retreated, her pink mouth an o in surprise.  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
Fletcher flew over Remus, his wand twirling in the air.  
  
"ARE YOU KIDDIN' ME, YOU LOONY?!" Fletcher charged towards her.  
  
"Petrificus Totalus!"  
  
Mundungus fell heavily onto Remus and the two tumbled to the ground.  
  
A hand struck her from behind, a foot on her back! The whistling of something green flying through the air!  
  
Smack!  
  
The Death Eater returned to his place in the dirt. Rosmerta rushed over to retrieve her one-good shoe, mouthing desperately.  
  
Tonks waved the wicked wand.  
  
"-SNEAKY SNAKE IN THE GRASS! THE ONE WHO SOLD US ALL ON THAT-FALTY-!"  
  
"I know, I KNOW! DO YOU HAVE A BROOM I CAN BORROW?" Tonks shouted.  
  
"Don't you dare raise your voice to me, you violet-haired-?! I've been through a horrible ordeal!"  
  
She was cut off by the look on Tonks's face. Rosmerta weakly motioned towards what was left of her tavern.  
  
"Mine's in the closet behind the bar."  
  
"Help Remus. Keep the Death Eater Stupified. Don't let Fletcher go."  
  
I have to get to Hogwarts.   
  
She stood. That was a start.  
  
Within the minutes, the hours, or however long she had sat there, Elizabeth Potter had made a decision. I'm going to survive!  
  
There was simply too much she would leave unfinished. The mystery behind her past...  
  
She was left behind for a reason, without a memory and marked. Her whole body was a story if one knew how to look. She dealt with pain from these marks which separated her so from any of her peers; now she wanted some answers. Her parents tried to protect her; that was a fact. Now she was the avenger; she could not die yet. Her father endured what she will have to, the torch had been passed, no matter what his intentions for her future had been. Most likely, he had hoped for the best. But all that he had built had been stolen. And she would bet everything, even her invisibility cloak (which she had loaned to one of her companions...Sandy maybe, her mind was jumbled up), that the person behind her family's suffering had a hand in her kidnapping. Perhaps, one of the burnt and withered hand prints on her body belonged to the hand that had placed her here. This knowledge was her fuel, and what made her move from the safe bed.  
  
There was her family, her grandmother mainly, who found such joy at her appearance. Her grandmother who had been through such losses! How could she not try and spare her another?  
  
Faces swam in her head of all those whom she met and allowed her to have a place even if it was less than flattering. Snape was in front of her, sneering, and telling her she was too weak to make it. She would show him she was much more than a name! Yeah!  
  
Yeah....  
  
Her wand was gone too. Of course!  
  
Duh! She hit herself in the head with the palm of her blackened hand. She wasn't going to be able to do much if she didn't start thinking faster.  
  
The walls...they glinted so strangely in the light, seemed to move. Biting her lip, she remembered the cause for her previous dizziness. Approaching closer, Elizabeth reached out curiously to obey her sudden impulse, to touch a protruding stone. It scratched against her sensitive skin. Snake! Recoiling in horror, hand tingling, she realized the walls were covered in snake-skin, not unlike that book she found.  
  
There was an angry hiss as the flames flickering in the torches went out.  
  
She stood in the dark! It was pitch black! Before she realized it, she was on the cold stone, her knees having given away as her system suffered a huge jolt. She couldn't catch her breath. Her lungs were being crushed. She felt something with a freezing hand with rubbery skin reach for her.  
  
Her phobia—  
  
Something is...  
  
Her whole being cringed, collapsing on herself, thinking she heard a step.  
  
Got to get out of here!  
  
Elizabeth tried to hush her breathing which gave the impression of a train. She took one stone at a time, crawling on her hands and knees.  
  
Trying not to vomit, she struggled as the cold from the stone seeped through her limbs  
  
She ran head-long into someone's leg. Oh!  
  
"Lumos."   
  
McGonagall raised her wand for order among the frightened melee of pajama- clad children.  
  
"Attention! Act like Gryffindors! Prefects, check off names of the list immediately!"  
  
She shoved the list in a flustered Indira Patil's hand and lifting her robes, she hurriedly climbed the steeps, leaving the shouting and crying behind her. Her sharp eyes had already noticed four people in particular missing from the group after she gazed around, trying to spot a mane of red- hair. Oh, gods!  
  
As she opened the hid door behind the tapestry of Ignatius the Great, something she couldn't see knocked her over. A silver cloth flew through the air.  
  
"What on— Finnigan!"  
  
A mutter from the pictures on the wall.  
  
"That's what you get for running in the halls."  
  
With surprising strength for her age, she jerked the frightened, crying girl up by the arm.  
  
"S-s-sorry! I was-we were-got locked out and c-couldn't remember the-."  
  
"WHERE'S POTTER?!"   
  
"So...you're awake then. I thought the child of the great Harry Potter would have awoken sooner from a simple stunning charm. Just a thought..."  
  
A mousy brown-headed man with dark eyes fitted above a weak chin studied her. She was surprised as she had expected a more sinister entity appearing from the dark. This man was one you could pass on any street corner in the world and be none the wiser to his existence.  
  
His non-descript face was arranged in such an expression of emptiness that held no anger, contempt, or joy. It held a smile which was not a smile but an expression of curiosity that you could easily find on a child's doll and stuck deep inside you because it gave uneasiness. Then he changed masks. His features contorted intensely, almost making him unrecognizable from before.  
  
The fiend moved suddenly and gripped her arms so hard his fingers clamped down on the bone; she cried out in pain. Her arm was going to be ripped out of her socket.  
  
"Be quiet, brat!" he spat in her face. "It's time for us to go. You're going to love...well. I won't ruin the surprise for you."  
  
He grabbed the same stone protruding from the wall that she had ventured to touch earlier. Every inch of snake-skin began to shift, gliding in the light of his wand, and revealed a hidden corridor.  
  
Damn, if only I had pulled it!  
  
She examined her captor out of the corner of her eye. With the malicious glint in his eyes, she realized why she had mistaken him for ghost boy earlier. His grip had not loosened, and her arm was going numb. Her feet were some good two inches off the ground. He didn't stupefy her again; she guessed he didn't see her as a threat. Anger bit in her heart.  
  
"Who are you? WHY ARE YOU-" Elizabeth was slammed against still-moving wall violently. Her head banged on the stone, and she lost her breath.  
  
"I told you to be quiet. See what you made me do."  
  
His voice was so apologetic and sugar-coated it made her sick. This man was a loose canon; if she wasn't careful, he would kill her before completed his mission whatever it was.  
  
He carried her in the corridor. It was noxiously humid like a jungle would be from centuries of stagnant water and the air weighed down on them both, him especially as he was slightly overweight.  
  
Expecting another act of violence, she winced as his sing-song voice broke the silence.  
  
"I guess I should let you know...who I am, I mean. Why not? It's not like you'll be telling anyone."  
  
Someone please help me! Oh, please!  
  
"My name's Smith. Average sounding, right? Think about how many Smiths are in the world. Hufflepuff-ish to a sickening point, am I right?" He broke off in to peals of maniacal laughter. His grip, if possible, increased. She remained silent.  
  
"My first name is even worse. Zacharias...bloody hell! But, let's think about it. So average. But I'm powerful in my invisibility, Potter. Potter...another unremarkable name, right?!" He shook her hard. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.  
  
"You agree. Wonderfully sensible of you! How very unlike your father! Yes, everyone knew your father's name. Thought he was so bloody wonderful. Let me tell you, he was a sodding idiot...a swelled-up git!"  
  
She felt the hate radiating off him in vibes. She was in so much trouble!  
  
"Then there were the Slytherins."  
  
Where did that come from?!  
  
"They wouldn't accept me for what I was. Walked around like they were gods, and I was supposed to lie down and take that! That bloody hat...I was supposed to be in Slytherin. It told me so...it did! But I was shunted into Hufflepuff because I was a Muggleborn-I wasn't smart enough to be in Ravenclaw. I didn't bury myself in a damn book, so no Ravenclaw for me! They were the most annoying, sodding...thought they were so-but your bloody father was the worst!"  
  
He looked at her expectantly, smirking, daring her to say something.  
  
"Uh-Hufflepuff isn't so bad." Even to her ears, that sounded weak. So much for calming this guy down!  
  
He stared at her, so she hurried on.  
  
"I mean-they're hardworking and loyal. That counts for a lot! A-at least, I- I think so," she muttered weakly.  
  
He laughed again, eyes bulging and she prepared for the violence to follow.  
  
"Oh, yes! Hardworking! Well, Potter, you're right. I am hardworking-in fact, I am part of something much greater than your so-called father...so great that You-Know-Who couldn't get within cursing distance...so great that the legendary Dumbledore is a weakling, a speck on my shoe. Isn't that hilarious?!"  
  
It wasn't hilarious at all. But she felt oddly fascinated by the display of absurdity in front of her. What the longing for a place in the world, longing for recognition, done to this man! He became a part rather than a person because if that part was greater than himself...he was hollow.  
  
So, here she was with a brain-washed lunatic who was dragging her away to kill her.  
  
No!  
  
I will do something! I'm not about to be beaten by a Smith.  
  
She buried herself deep within, trying to find that power that had allowed her to escape from Westley, another fairly average person.  
  
He shook her again, annoyed by her lack of attention.  
  
"Nothing to say..."  
  
"Yes, I do have something to say. Did you take my necklace?!"  
  
"Your what?!" Smith snarled, his eyes opening wide at the offense of changing the subject. He twisted her arm behind her back, making her gasp as needles shot up into her shoulder. They traveled like this for what seemed like an eternity.  
  
"We're here!" He was obviously having a great time.  
  
There were in the infamous mirror room where Tonks had taken her before on her first visit to Hogwarts.  
  
If he thought he could escape with me here, well, hah! He's the idiot!  
  
Then she saw the quicksilver mirror that the fingertips had grazed in the middle of the floor, filled with a deep red.  
  
What?!  
  
Elizabeth was relatively sure that mirror was doing that the last time she was here.  
  
Before she realized it, he had hauled her across the room, gracefully missing the other enigmatic mirrors. She caught a glimpse of her many selves, each undergoing the same form of humiliation in their universes. One Elizabeth turned towards her, sneering, waving her away with kisses, and giving her plenty of rude gestures in a remarkably short length of time. Another clone was just laughing hysterically like she was told the funniest joke in the world-that she was going to be done in by a Smith.  
  
Just what I need...  
  
Smith lowered her down where her feet touched but held her head in a head- lock and her arms clasped behind her. To her chagrin, her ruddy reflection showed fear etched on every line of her petite face. Smith loomed over her more a creature than a man, and his eyes danced with glee at this picture.  
  
Her eyes followed Smith as he raised a curiously shaped dagger, engraved with a bagger fittingly enough. But, on the hilt, sacrifices of small figures...children no less...was taking place apparently for the bagger. And the words were pethro.  
  
A grin covered Smith's randomly contorting face.  
  
"Don't worry...this will hurt."  
  
He pierced her arm, scrapping the bone, and she screamed the sound echoing in her head. His gloved hand completely covered her mouth.  
  
He lowered her with mock gentleness to the ground like a rag doll. Shock  
  
"I need your blood. Otherwise, you won't be able to travel in between."  
  
Through the digging pain and fear that was reaching back into her, she had to wonder what that meant, in between.  
  
Smith dabbed her blood off the knife with his finger and drew a symbol on the icy surface of the mirror which pulsed angrily, then greedily absorbed her blood.  
  
The Thorn.  
  
The Thorn burnt in the sky, the mirror, the book...and his ring...I saw it...  
  
With this same hand, he grabbed a fist-full of her hair to pull her up, making her hiss.  
  
"Step lively now."  
  
The mirror was now rippling as if it was going to overflow. It seemed to have grown accustom to the taste of blood.  
  
No way! No way am I going in there!  
  
As Smith stepped up behind her to push her into the river of blood, she kicked out, catching him right in the groin.  
  
In response to the acute pain and shock, he fell forward, knocking into her and effectively making her lose her balance.  
  
When a thing is red, you think it's going to be burning hot like lava. The pool of liquid even behaved like lava, congealing behind her. But the pool...it was like falling into an ice-bucket, numbing for an intense home- made surgical procedure, the theft of a kidney.  
  
Even the roots of her hair froze, and her mouth opened as a reaction when she really didn't desire to ingest any of the garnet...time. Time was flowing by, intertwined with the morbid offering of entry. She was aware that her pale hand floating, reaching up above and that somehow the ability to breathe didn't leave.  
  
Watching the graying cook from behind the door, hoping for a hand out since she was locked up last...pretending to sleep, seeing faces in the cracked, plaster ceiling...biting cold with holes in the mittens...a woman with red hair, her red hair, cinnamon eyes, smiling....  
  
In the Great Hall, full of students in pajamas covered in the standard cloaks, whispering...  
  
Death Eaters...heard that You-Know-Who's back...think they'll get in...Potter's missing...  
  
Malfoy was right by her, practically breathing on her neck, but he didn't deliver his trade-mark glare. Pyrrhus's eyes were merry, amused at the whispers around him. The wispy boy swaggered with his hands in his pockets around various clusters of children, towards her. Elizabeth already opted to ignore him as the situation was dire; if she could find a professor to warn them about Smith. She turned around to look over the crowd's head...when warmth like a dagger pierced her back. It was the worst experience of her life, a living nightmare.  
  
Malfoy's arm was in the middle of her stomach, and then he was in front of her, ambling away towards his fellow Slytherins after walking through her.  
  
"You little-I'll make you suffer for that!"  
  
Smith wrapped a hand around her neck, jerking her up to look him straight in the eye. Madness simmered behind his irises.  
  
No one noticed his sudden appearance. They looked through them both, voices at a dull roar.  
  
Am I dead?  
  
Elizabeth didn't fight as Smith pulled her through the crowds of solid bodies and gradually became accustomed to the sensation.  
  
The professors were outside the doors; Dumbledore was outside the doors. Dumbledore...  
  
The wizened, concerned wizard didn't blink as her livid captor hauled the object of frantic search pass. As a last ditch attempt, she grabbed at her only hope's moon-covered cloak...to see her hand pass through him.  
  
The old man turned his head slightly...then walked through the old oak doors to address his panicked charges.  
  
The ghosts whom she feared so much floated past to listen to what Dumbledore was going to say...even the dead didn't see her waving frantically and screaming at the top of her lungs.  
  
Smith was glowing with arrogance; he looked over his shoulder to leer, to gloat, and enjoy her helplessness. How she hated him.  
  
Past the numerous portraits...past the tapestries...the glow of floating candles ahead...  
  
If she didn't think of something fast and escape her isolation, she was doomed; they were a stone's throw away from the main doors.  
  
She drug her sore feet against the stone floor, face twisting as she made a sudden move towards freedom.  
  
Smith turned. Crack...her head flew back as his hand made contact with her face, his emblem ring leaving a mark.  
  
"Don't tempt me. I promise I'll make you lose your mind before you die. I know how. Then you won't be able to join your dear little brother."  
  
Her mind hurt so dreadfully now, tingly.  
  
What'z that-said you-my brot-  
  
Through her strands of hair, she saw the boy leaning against the banister, in a bored position as if he had been waiting there forever. His eyes became focused as he spotted Smith who didn't see him quite yet, still glowering at his captive. His face became livid and more animated than Smith's could ever be.  
  
Smith snarled at Elizabeth, wanting to see fear and an attention in those eyes he had hated in his youth and he got his wish, but to his rage, the brat dared to ignore him, looking over his shoulder. He glanced back...looked again.  
  
Who the dev...  
  
Zacharias Smith didn't get the privilege to finish this thought before he was flung into oblivion. The devil had moved quickly and his last awareness was the hand on his chest and the whistling of air rushing pas-  
  
Rubeus Hagrid yelped, dropping his crossbow in alarm as a man appeared out of the thin air and hit the floor directly in front of his feet.  
  
"WHAT IN-DUMBLEDORE, COM' QUICK. THERE'S-!"  
  
Elizabeth gaped at the place where Smith once stood, alive and well, on the steps, clasping her arm.  
  
In his stead stood her very clear and defined stalker whom she had just witnessed commit murder. His garnet eyes took on a whole new meaning as her eyes flashed over to see the blood of her former-  
  
The boy made a rapid motion with his hand, reaching for her face. Her back hit the wall as she scrambled on her hands and knees to avoid his touch.  
  
His youthful face, painted in innocence if one happened not to meet his gaze, appeared strangely apathetic as he slowly climbed the steps in pursuit.  
  
Elizabeth kept him in her sight as she struggled one-armed up the step, just painfully realizing that her other arm had been broken.  
  
The boy halted, his mouth twisting in a smirk as he turned towards the sound of running.  
  
Once again, Dumbledore rushed past, actually through, the missing girl lying on the steps. The boy laughed at the sight; Elizabeth grimaced, preferring Smith to this new terror. His laugh was so high-pitched it jolted her, chilling her bones more than the defiled mirror. It was a laugh that spoke of thin branches scratching at window panes and graveyards. It was unnatural.  
  
A sting of adults trampled and clicked by, all blind. Elizabeth gave up. She remained sprawled out like a broken doll on the cold stone. She couldn't escape. But she wasn't going to look at him.  
  
Insolently, she focused on the gathering children around the balcony who had apparently slipped past the flustered Prefects. Each face was a mask of fear and awe for most of the lot had never been confronted with death, such a foreign thing. Resentment...she resented their innocence and their safety. The isolation was killing her; the boy didn't have to lift a finger.  
  
She felt him kneel down to study her better. He had time now, all the time in the world.  
  
Long, china fingers traced the side of her face and neck teasingly. Elizabeth wouldn't flinch, but she was angered by his mockery of gentleness when she knew full well he was planning to do her harm. She clenched her jaw.  
  
"I see...no word of thanks."  
  
There it was, one of the first impacting moments in her life where time truly stood still without any magic involved or illusions.  
  
His voice was low and infuriatingly calm as if he didn't have a worry in the world. As much as she despised him, she couldn't help but marvel at the sea-like quality the murmuring of his tone carried. Like an ocean, his voice gave a strange comfort with its vastness and reflection of light. Yet the surface broke as a monster lurked underneath. What a paradox...what an entity of potential chaos.  
  
He gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. His eyes were an ocean of blood gathering from what he had done....perhaps, that is why the rest of him was so spotless, that where all the proof of the pain he has caused soaks in.  
  
He knew many things...his eyes burned with fierce intelligence, with ferocity.  
  
But unlike Dumbledore, he only seemed to know so much; his gaze lacked something vital she had seen present in others.  
  
Then the boy did something unexpected; he smiled at what he saw, seeming pleased, and raised his fingertips to her forehead.  
  
She saw herself paralyzed, tasting the salt tears in her mouth. His fingers left a tingling sensation in their wake. Her mind buzzed as she tried to figure out what was the shape he was tracing on her, into her.  
  
It was a lightening bolt.  
  
Elizabeth opened her mouth to scream; he pushed on her temple, hard, and she received a jolt of intense energy, making her gasp in air that felt different from before, crisp and-  
  
"POTTER!"  
  
This just wasn't her day. The first face she saw above her was hook-nosed Snape who had the gall to glare at her as if she had caused it all to happen and ruined his night.  
  
Then....oh thank you...  
  
Tonks was there, lifting her head, helping her breathe.  
  
"You'll be okay."  
  
But first she had to find him, find out where he went.  
  
She twisted the best her arm and body would allow her to in Tonks's motherly embrace.  
  
He was gliding smoothly past the crowding bodies even though he could have gone right through them without causing a stir.  
  
He glanced over his shoulder and waved jauntily. Something golden and radiant flashed in her eyes.  
  
There, glinting in the candlelight, intertwined between his slender fingers was her mother's phoenix necklace.  
  
"Potter, enough of this foolishness! Explain."  
  
She hated the sound of his greasy voice. It had been sliding over her for an hour.  
  
That git...she would explain if she could but somehow the words wouldn't come.  
  
Dumbledore sat directly in front of her bed, hands folded gently. He studied her over his half-moon glasses, and this action had a far worse effect on her than Snape's voice.  
  
The morbid demise of Zacharias Smith loomed over the room and on everyone's tongue. How did it happen? What happened? How did a man who had disappeared nine years ago suddenly appear dead on the floor and shortly there after, the missing girl appeared above the place where he would have fallen?  
  
Elizabeth admitted it didn't look very good at all. But she had a feeling that no one should know about the boy who walked in-between. It was his words, you see.  
  
No word of thanks.  
  
Who knows where Smith had planned on taking her? She wasn't stupid. True, the boy might be planning her future harm but for the moment, he saved her life and let her go. He sent her back when he didn't have to.  
  
Thus, keeping him out of notice would be returning his kindness (using the word lightly and a broad of context as possible) the best she could.  
  
Tap...tap...Tonks drummed her foot nervously; she stopped when everyone quickly turned towards her.  
  
Tonks jumped up, an air of determination about her.  
  
"I-I think Lizzy's tired. We shouldn't push her like this-it's-Fletcher had a hand in what happened, I swear it. We should be questioning that traitor, not the child."  
  
Snape hissed under his breath, his excitement at the up-coming interrogation stolen.  
  
Dumbledore sighed.  
  
"That will not be possible, I'm afraid."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Why? He didn't escape, did he?!"  
  
"No. He...put an end to himself through means which I will not go into detail. The Death Eater, Mr. Gregory Goyle, is also..." Dumbledore trailed off.  
  
Tonks covered her mouth, collapsing back in her chair.  
  
"And Remus-is he..."  
  
"Oh, no! He is recovering quite well at St. Mungo's, thankfully."  
  
Snape snorted in disgust.  
  
"Sadly, our only source of enlightenment is young Ms. Potter. If you wish it, Ms. Potter, we could discuss the matter privately, you and I..."  
  
"No...I can-they can hear it, too."  
  
A pause.  
  
Snape sneered.  
  
"Well, then, get on with your story."  
  
"Severus, please."  
  
Elizazbeth hurried on, not wishing to hear Snape if she could help it.  
  
"Smith stupefied me during the attack on Hogsmeade."  
  
Snape crowed, "When you were out of your House dorm, sneaking around, plotting to do who knows what kind of damage!"  
  
"SEVERUS!"  
  
Snape and Elizabeth both their staring contest, jerking in alarm. Tonks gaped. Madam Pomfrey peeked slowly, wide-eyed, around the curtain.  
  
No one had ever heard Albus Dumbledore shout in anger. Ever...  
  
His blue eyes blazed at Snape who backed away with his head bent in an attitude of shame.  
  
"Continue. There will be no more interruptions."  
  
Elizabeth sought to gain her breath, not wanting to keep the old irked wizard waiting any longer than he had to.  
  
"I-I woke up in this...snake room. (Snape looked at her sharply, eyebrow lifted.) I mean-th-the walls were covered in all this snake skin. I got up- you know- trying to find a way out but Smith came and...he was...insane."  
  
She recalled the deceased man's twisting, yellowing mouth. She knew that part of Smith would stay with her for awhile.  
  
"He touched this stone, he knew to touch this stone, and a corridor opened. He just-ke-kept (her voice was failing) yelling about Houses, of all things, and how he was greater than my-f-(she couldn't barely talk about her dad in the same sentence as the disgruntled, straw Smith) and You-Know- Who and-all. Then we got to the room full of mirrors (Dumbledore nodded) and the one in the middle was blood red...it was soaked in blood."  
  
Snape moved forward suddenly, only to retreat back towards the wall at Dumbledore's sharp look. Tonks remained frozen, mouth opened slightly, focused on Elizabeth.  
  
"Smith stabbed me."  
  
Tonks gasped brokenly, hand covering her heart. Elizabeth had the strange idea that Tonks blamed herself for what happened and took on Elizabeth's pain.  
  
Dumbledore held up his hand, motioning quickly for her to keep talking, just to keep talking.  
  
"He drew this triangle with my-my- with the-I think...the Thorn."  
  
She stopped again. Dumbledore's face was covered in lines of intense thought...he gazed at her wildly but wasn't looking at her at all. He moved to rise then gave up the idea and like Tonks, sort of collapsed in his chair.  
  
The effect this had...this man of such strength and order suddenly seeming to collapse...  
  
Tonks stood, pushing her chair back with a harsh, grating noise. She moved towards Dumbledore, arms outstretched as if she planned to embrace him and to shield him in some way. Snape appeared to be trying to blend in with the wall and looked at the headmaster in a blank manner, head tilted in observation.  
  
Dumbledore gained his composure and held his trembling hands up to ward off assistance.  
  
"And what else?"  
  
Elizabeth knew she needed to...  
  
"We went through the mirror and into the Great Hall. No one saw. Everyone was-li-like smoke; we went through everyone and into the main entry. Smith said something about meeting my-my brother (if possible Dumbledore seemed to sink even lower in his chair) then he s-slipped," she finished weakly.  
  
Severus Snape tried to maintain control; she saw the physical effort in his face, his mouth twitching spasmodically. He clenched and unclenched his fists. He shifted from side to side. But his mouth popped open despite all his sincere efforts.  
  
"The man just suddenly slipped, did he?"  
  
Nymphadora Tonks lost it.  
  
"YES, SNAPE! YOU BLOODY HEARD HER!! THE MAN SLIPPED, DAMNIT!!!! LIKE YOU'LL FIND YOURSELF-"  
  
Tonks cut off.  
  
Dumbledore bent over and held his white head cupped in his hands.  
  
Before a second had passed, he got up abruptly and left the room.  
  
Madam Pomfrey stared after him, close to tears, and her hand clasped to her chest.  
  
"The both of you...leave now and let the child rest...please," the old nurse whispered.  
  
Perhaps, that Smith was right. Maybe he was part of something greater than Dumbledore, judging by the old wizard's reaction. That meant that the old man can't protect me.  
  
The ceiling was alight with twinkling stars as if one was outside on a camping trip. Madam Pompfrey did not dare try floating candles again. But, in an act of kindness and forethought, she remembered Elizabeth's acute distrust of the dark. Now, Elizabeth was afraid the aged witch saw the reasoning behind her misunderstood logic.  
  
Ignorance is not bliss. You have to know what is coming at you.  
  
She didn't dare close her eyes. If she did, she would probably see a shocked Smith flying over that balcony again.  
  
Elizabeth hadn't desired such a means to her escape. Oh, how she hadn't...  
  
In some way, she felt responsible for the upset...he was so upset with his place in life.  
  
Maybe I could have fought back and stunned him. At least he would be alive.  
  
And then...sleep wasn't such a bad idea. She hurt all over from Skelegrow. If she ingested much more of that stuff, she was sure she would become immune and then what would she do.  
  
If she slept, she would see her mother. She saw her mother tonight. Smith gave her something precious even though he had meant to harm her so. He had inadvertently gave her a moment with her mother...a forgotten memory.  
  
The trip through the mirror illuminated and reflected a distant piece of her subconscious. The woman with the cinnamon eyes and the love that was tangible-  
  
Elizabeth blinked.  
  
Love! That's what his eyes were missing. Kindness...caring...he had no reflection of any such thing.  
  
Professor Dumbledore has a reflection of genuine love although it is a distant glimmer but love is indeed there...a respect for life.  
  
Tonks...she made me feel loved...cradling my head, so happy I was alive.  
  
He was so cold...even helping me, he was so very cold.  
  
So very alone...  
  
Elizabeth awoke, not believing she actually drifted off. Vaguely, she reached for her wand as a reflex and at the very moment giggling hysterically since she knew her wand was-there. The elder wood warmed at her touch and sparks skidded across the bedside table, almost igniting the washcloth.  
  
How? "Lumos," she whispered, hoping to shine so light on the situation.  
  
A message written in a cursive hand in the dust covering the table stood out boldly.  
  
I believe I have something that belongs to you. Meet me alone during the Halloween Feast. You'll know where to go. 


	7. Boundaries

'Isa (Ice rune)-Sacred to intensity, this rune indicates obstacles, limitations, and barriers while warning against continuance. Meanings include: coldness, dead end, strong hidden forces. Only acting positively will melt ice.'  
  
"Everyone chooses their own destiny. That's the law of the universe. You  
just make sure you choose one that keeps you alive."  
  
Dean Koontz's Intensity  
  
"Let your music speak of fear, overwhelming child's fear, fear that the  
entire fabric of things is rent and will never be whole."  
  
Anne Rice's Violin  
  
"If something is precious to you...no matter how painful or how hard to  
seems, no matter what it may cost you, you have to hang in there...and protect it with all the strength you've got, even at the risk of your own life! If you do that, even if you die in the attempt, at least the world  
will be left with the proof that a man worth living had died!"  
  
Naruto ch. 20  
  
"Being attached to your government, your clan, and your name...Those are your  
limits, and condemning yourself to your 'vessel' is detestable...and you can't see...that to fear and hate those who don't know...is foolish! Because clans and the like...are only attached to the insignificant things and lose  
sight of what is truly important. Real change cannot be created with  
regulations and limitations...or skeletal frames of imagination and  
premonitions..."  
Uchiha Itachi  
Naruto Ch. 222  
  
"Dawn in my soul  
A bit of sun for each home  
A bit of light for everyone  
Under the canopy, a leaf trembles  
And the dew remembers the clouds  
And the earth exhales a huge wind  
And life shivers, shivers  
Kite of my childhood  
Fragile hope hanging in the sky  
Hearts open, human abodes  
In a world where no one is excluded."  
  
Cyclo  
  
Chapter 6: Boundaries  
  
As if in a trance, Elizabeth slowly wiped the table clean of its message. She let her hands flow in a circular motion even when those ominous, ashy letters were gone. What do I do now?  
  
She brought the covers to her chin, rocking back and forth.  
  
If I meet Him, I will cross a threshold. The strange thought rang true. She would be abandoning her old life to the point where she could turn around and gaze back but never step foot on that familiar soil again; he was death...the boy who carried death around in his eyes. What are the consequences of confronting such a being! How silly!  
  
She had to get up and move around to stop feeling so cold. Rubbing her hands swiftly across her shaking shoulders, she shuffled to the middle of the ivory (writing on marble) room and began to pace. Why am I even considering...  
  
That was obvious. Even if she defied him and didn't meet him face-to-face, she would see him again. One of her most precious possessions is between his spider-like fingers; he carried the fragile chain with those cold hands that had mocked her and pushed a man to his death. If she didn't meet the shadow boy, what would he do with her cinnamon-eyed, beautiful mother's necklace? She had to face him...but Elizabeth Faye Potter was terribly frightened.  
  
The images of last night were stored up as if it had all been another nightmare. After the jolting message in the dust, she was wide awake. Smith waving his arms as if trying to fly...that boy's face is so apathetic yet his eyes shone with ruddy joy at the picture he creates. The shadow boy was like a backdrop of an ancient, black-and-white movie. It was unnatural and so out-of-place that it became something horrible, a force of its own in the blurry motion picture. He was unfathomable; simply picturing that tall figure made her head terribly numb and her breath hitch. To face him after she had witnessed what he was capable of...  
  
What is HE? That he can exist in-between where ghost can't even tread?  
  
She could go to Dumbledore right this minute and tell him what really happened on those steps in-between. Dumbledore would forgive her if she simply explained herself-  
  
No...she had chosen this path. She had not told Dumbledore and Tonks about the boy; she lied through her teeth. He just slipped... this was her problem and her demon to face. But she had so many to face! It was apparent that Smith and the hostile shade were not on the same side. The boy was angry at Smith for...What? Beating him to the punch? Smith was going to take me away when the spirit had something else in mind! The first time I saw him in the hall...that cold look of intention through burning eyes.  
  
Smith spoke of something greater he was apart of...Julia said the Death Eaters weren't working alone. Dumbledore claimed that lot was mislead. All the things that had happened since she came back...She had to think what the state of things would be if she hadn't escaped and forced her way unintentionally into the Wizarding World. Would they have come for her? Or would the Death Eaters have remained silenced... no shadow boys looming in the school halls or Thorns piercing the sky? Would the world her father fought to protect still be preserved?  
  
Elizabeth sat down hard by the corner of hospital bed, twirling her hair between her fingers nervously.  
  
How does it all connect? How does it all connect to me?  
  
She was being vain. Everything might not have to do directly with her...she was just only nearly abducted! She searched the illuminated night sky for some sign.  
  
Was present at Diagon Alley for the attack! I'm here at Hogwarts where everything's falling apart, where worlds are colliding through mirrors and death is here!  
  
Was she to blame for the sickness among the animals, Hermione's injury, the loss of Michael's little sister, and her own parent's...  
  
You were born in a time of darkness. Hadn't Dumbledore said that? This is overwhelming!  
  
How had it come to be this way, her future and dreams? Or was her future locked in the past? She was being encircled, heavily woven into these layers of plots. If one enemy didn't get her, the other would. Closing her weary eyes in frustration, she knew she had no way of figuring out anything. If she kept her eyes closed, she would picture her mother's face that burned on the back of her eyelids. Elizabeth opened her eyes to look upon the Forbidden Forest.  
  
The last fading image of her mother and the life that radiated from her was a painful reminder of what could have been. She so wanted to remember more but that chapter of her life was written in invisible ink forever. She had no clues to what had happened.  
  
Then again...her brother!  
  
Her brother...Smith threw those piercing words. Elizabeth saw her face reflected in the sparkling window with her features alight with the possibility. She scanned the horizon and did not see the forest. Now she could focus her jumbled thoughts.  
  
Are you alive out there, little brother? Are you afraid and alone? Don't worry and don't be afraid. I promise I will come for you. I will find a way! No force on Earth could keep me away!  
  
This oath she shall live by. Thank you, brother. I don't even know your name. This oath gave her strength even in the face of that force...whatever it is that lurks out there waiting. She could face that boy.  
  
Use the book.  
  
She blinked, hand flying up to her mouth. What part of her had that thought emerged from? She had forgotten that cursed thing! She had promised herself she would never look at that ugly book because of what it made her do; it made her take—  
  
I must be tired. A raggedy, old book controlling people? But that symbol...  
  
She would look at the book first thing in the morning. Perhaps it would clue her in on exactly what was going on here.  
  
Elizabeth perched herself upon the window seal to watch the sun rise. The warm light seeped in the night sky, mixing into a royal purple. The forest grew friendlier; the lingering fireflies made the trees dance as if Christmas had come early.  
  
The crisp, autumn air was sinking in the glass and stone. She laid her aching forehead against the glass while smiling at her mirror self who offered her company. Who knows? With what I've been through with mirrors, another Elizabeth might exist on the other side of the glass. Hopefully she's had a better go of things. Perhaps not...she has a scar, I think, on her forehead...like lightning...poor thing...just like dad...  
  
Someone was shaking her shoulder.  
  
"What are you doing out of bed, Ms. Potter? You could catch your death! Don't you feel the cold for heaven's sake?!" Someone was hissing at her.  
  
Madam Pomfrey was not happy at all. Elizabeth had to admire her composure.  
  
"Is it time for me to go now?'  
  
The nurse looked her over.  
  
"You mustn't push yourself so! You've had a very traumatic experience. I can't even imagine how you're moving about." Madam Pomfrey allowed a small smile to grace her face. "You've got strength, that much is clear. Now just hold still while I examine your arm."  
  
Elizabeth fidgeted anxiously for she wanted to be able to look at that book before anyone else was awake in the dormitory.  
  
"You've healed beautifully, dear. Now—!" The nurse halted, looking puzzled. Her sharp eyes raked Elizabeth's hairline. Her mouth formed an o as she moved her hand slowly to brush back Elizabeth bangs.  
  
Elizabeth moved her head back quickly, suspicious of the woman's behavior.  
  
"I'm...sorry, dear. I thought for a moment I saw...it was just a trick of the light on my old eyes," she laughed nervously as if trying to find reassurance and banish the impossible. Madam Pomfrey cradled her arms.  
  
"You may go, Ms. Potter."  
  
Elizabeth pounded up the stairs with the feeling that if she didn't fetch the book, the opportunity would be lost forever. It would be flung out the window or off a balco—  
  
She stopped by the door to brace herself to fulfill her goal. Please let no one be awake to question me about Smith...please!  
  
"Tacitus."  
  
It felt odd to be sneaking into one's own room but stranger things had happened. She tapped her trunk gently which opened with a click and felt along the rim for that tell-tell bulge. Ah hah!  
  
She carefully picked up the seeming fragile book that was already losing some of its scales. It was a strangely bewitching item in the morning rays, dancing with unnamable colors. It reminded her of the sun rise only more magical. And in the middle of the dancing lights was the symbol she had the misfortune to see so many times. It didn't seem so threatening now. It was actually quite interesting...promising answers to riddles, mysteries, and the answer to everything...she traced the Thorn almost lovingly as if it were her secret that—  
  
"Whatcha doing?" Sandy's voice was thick with sleep. "Didn't you hear that classes were cancelled for today?"  
  
Elizabeth froze as her heart leapt in a sort of guilty dance. She quickly rushed to thrust the book in her bag. She was awake now as if from a deep sleep after being dosed with cold water. That book had done it again and she had allowed it.  
  
The freckled girl struggled to be free from her covers to get a better look at the noisemaker. Her wide eyes grew even wider.  
  
"Elizabeth!" she squeaked. The red-head motioned frantically for her to lower her voice.  
  
Sandy leapt out of bed, rummaged through her pile of robes on her trunk, and thrust a flowing, silver cloak into Elizabeth's sweaty hands which instantly became invisible. All the while she kept talking excitedly and motioning with her hands.  
  
"I tried to find you...when Hogwarts was under attack. All I found by the Oddball was your cloak. I thought you were dead or something-for you to leave your dad's cloak behind!"  
  
Or something...her mind was still floundering from that bloody book. What is this?  
  
"My invisibility cloak," Elizabeth muttered.  
  
Sandy looked surprised.  
  
"Of course it is." She sat back on her feet to study her shaken friend. "What happened to you anyway? I heard that there was...a man who fell, who died...'  
  
Elizabeth didn't look up.  
  
Sandy continued hesitantly. "Someone told me that you...appeared out of thin air. But I had your cloak so I knew that wasn't why you were invisible. Do you know some sort of charm?" She looked expectantly at Elizabeth who didn't respond as she was still studying the supple material in her hands while not really seeing the cloak at all.  
  
"Um...I had a brush with McGonagall...knocked her flat actually. She saw the cloak. I'm sorry! I was just so panicked, you know, I didn't know what to do. But McGonagall didn't even confiscate it so I guess you can keep your dad's cloak!" Sandy finished with a grin.  
  
Elizabeth got to her feet and grabbed her bag. Sandy hastily stood up.  
  
"So where are you going? Professor Dumbledore said to stay in the House Dorms until he summoned us for the school meeting, you know, in the Great Hall. He's going to talk to us about...all the loony stuff that's been going on lately."  
  
"It's a good thing I have my cloak then. Thanks for taking care of it for me. That means a lot."  
  
She turned abruptly to leave but stopped as a thought dawned on her.  
  
"Are the others okay? Michael and Daniel?"  
  
"Y-yeah! Michael was really worried about you last night. He was freaking out about what could have happened and not watching after you better."  
  
Elizabeth clasped the door handle tightly, wanting just to get out of that room before that other girls woke up and started interrogating her.  
  
"You aren't going to say anything? You can talk to me. You know you can trust me, right? I totally understand if you don't want to talk about last night. That's okay. But I do hope it's not because you don't think I'm not your friend and that I wasn't worried about you!"  
  
Elizabeth gazed levelly at the concerned girl. What should I say? She had already made her decision on the way to the dorm to keep her distance from her peers because they might get involved in all the layers and get hurt or flung off the sta— Everyone around Potters die...obviously.  
  
Silence that eagerly waited the fall on the chopping block hung in the air. Sandy's face showed more alarm and hurt every second.  
  
"What happened last night...was really bad. I don't think...you don't have the mental capacity to understand. Heck, you'll probably blab anything I tell you to the whole entire school. That's how much I trust you, gossip queen." Her voice was carefully chilled but quite scalding.  
  
Sandy stepped back, her face hardening.  
  
"Is that so, Miss-I-Have-The-Personality-Of-Dry-Rot?! My dad was right about you. Everything bad that's happening...it's all because of you, isn't it?!"  
  
Hearing those words spoken so directly cut deep and stuck because deep down she had the terrible feeling they were not off the mark.  
  
"If you and your dear dad believe that, then you'd best keep you distance then."  
  
Finnigan opened her mouth to retort. She scrambled out the door so fast she was sure the rug might have caught on fire.  
  
That's that.  
  
Elizabeth's footfalls echoed loudly in her ears. She felt it happening...she felt her foundation shift. How very cold she had been. Doesn't she understand? Why do they...and what about dry rot?! Oh! Never mind. They were at risk around her because of her name and who she is. How clear her path was becoming. She was forging her path well. It was not her fault that it had already been chosen by a cold touch, a sharp Thorn, and burning eyes.  
  
What if she had been with me when Smith grabbed me?! What if Michael or Daniel had...  
  
Her method was in the best interest of everyone. Then why did Elizabeth feel like she had lost something special by throwing it away? Easy come, easy go. She had only just met Sandy for Cripes sake! She couldn't allow anyone to get hurt for her sake. She was going to face everything that came at her starting with that murderous shade.  
  
Okay, priorities! Got to hit the library. Check out the book. The sign...find out what it means. Research what that guy could possibly be and figure out how to defend yourself if it comes down to a fight. And yearbooks...loads of yearbooks! Got to find out who I'm dealing with!  
  
She checked to see that the invisibility cloak was secure. Her father left her with possibly the mot vital tool of her life. It meant freedom from prying eyes and the questions to come.  
  
As a child...no, she wasn't a child anymore. Never had she felt like she was. During her time at the orphanage, although Elizabeth didn't acknowledge it, she escaped through fantasy and always hoped for tomorrow to be better. Maybe her father would appear on the doorstep after coming back from some great Battle and collect her in his arms. Her memory would come back; for awhile, such hope was easy and natural.  
  
Hogwarts seemed to stand for that lost idea that her life would be better in this magical world so far away from the dull Muggle orphanage. Here she had family. Here she found pieces of her parents; her father's cloak was supposed to be a promise of security. Now the heirloom had become a tool for survival. Now Elizabeth wasn't looking for a way out from her problems and the whispers of the past still touching her. She was looking for a way in and a conclusion.  
  
Her invisibility cloak meant freedom from time where for a few minutes one can observe life...maybe see patterns. Most of all, to Elizabeth mind, it meant unlimited access to any book I need...  
  
Elizabeth took off the cloak on the second floor near the girl's bathroom and made her way down to the Great Hall. She had begun to think maybe she should show up for the meeting to hear what Dumbledore could possibly say to calm people down.  
  
A group of older students about in their fifth year gathered in the main corridor by the suits of armor. Their rallying point was a tall, sandy- haired by who appeared completely aware of the attention he was receiving. Elizabeth had almost wandered into their sight.  
  
"So you saw the Potter girl push that man, Greengrass?"  
  
Elizabeth quickly ducked behind a gargoyle.  
  
"She was standing exactly where he would have fallen from. Poof! Just appeared out of nowhere! Dumbledore didn't even spot her before! Must have run right through them! Now that's some powerful magic. I couldn't get see her close up because Professors and some violet-haired witch were swarming about. But I did spot that blood was everywhere! I asked McGonagall, I did, who exactly the man was because as a Prefect, I thought I should know! And the old biddy wouldn't tell me anything. And this meeting...I doubt old Dumbledore's going to say much except the basics."  
  
"Basics?"  
  
"You know, how we'll all in good hands and to trust the professors...that whole bit. First off they've got to protect Potter. That's why no one from the Ministry or Daily Prophet came and that's why we're all in the dark. I personally don't feel comfortable in a school that hides murders!"  
  
"Or murderers?" a girl with a dark braid and equally dark scowl muttered.  
  
"Wait a minute. We don't know what happened. It doesn't mean that Potter murdered the guy," a shorter boy said. Thank you!  
  
'We never will either! Stuff like this has happened before at Hogwarts. You know when? When Harry Potter was a student here! They covered up for him too. The Triwizard Tournament was here, right here at Hogwarts. Potter and another kid, Digget...no, wait...it was Diggory...Diggory disappeared during the final competition...also into thin air. And guess what? Potter appeared later and so did Diggory except Diggory was most definitely dead. And before that, a lot of kids were Petrified during his second year...something that only happened once before sixty or seventy years ago. I bet his grandfather was here then or something. They say he's a hero and all but why do you think that You-Know-Who wanted to kill him so bad? He must've seen harmless Harry Potter as a threat, maybe as the up-and-coming Dark Lord. Besides, how could a baby defeat the most powerful Dark Wizard in centuries if he didn't possess some kind of power? Then he disappears of the face of the earth for real with his wife popping up dead! I don't care if that Potter girl did anything to the mystery man. I just think that it's not a coincidence that she was involved. One thing's for sure! Mark my words, when a Potter is at this school, no one's safe. We'll be lucky if the school remains standing at this rate!"  
  
Elizabeth had heard enough. Walking silently the other way, hand dragging against the wall, she decided to skip the bloody meeting no matter what anyone said. She'd go to McGonagall and say she was ill and in desperate need to have a lie down in her room. When everyone's in the Great Hall, she'll sneak in the library and investigate. Yes, that's what she'll do. Halloween was tomorrow after all.  
  
Elizabeth knocked softly on Professor McGonagall's door.  
  
"Enter," a sharp voice responded on the other side. McGonagall's office was extremely tidy and Red.  
  
McGonagall looked up sternly but her face softened considerably when she realized who had stopped by.  
  
"What is it, Potter? Are you alright?"  
  
Elizabeth felt sorry she had to concern the woman more, but it was necessary if she was going to get out of the ominous school meeting full of stares and awkward questions. She put on her best gloomy face and most pitiful voice.  
  
"Professor, I'm fine... I'm just really tired. I didn't sleep too well in the Hospital Wing. I don't think I can eat anything either. Might I remain in my room for the night to have a lie-down?"  
  
McGonagall hesitated, pursing her thin lips tightly. "Tonight's gathering is very important to prevent any misunderstandings among the students. I know the Headmaster feels that you should be present."  
  
Elizabeth's face must have paled very quickly. Her heart was in her shoes. She didn't realize how anxious she was about facing her peers! She was so certain she could get out of it! Bloody hell!  
  
The aged witch in front of her was taken back at her rapidly changing appearance.  
  
"Perhaps...it's best you rest tonight. I shall inform the Headmaster of your absence."  
  
Elizabeth smiled weakly at the kind, wonderful professor. She had been spared! She turned on her heels to go and was almost out the door.  
  
"Oh, and Potter...I expect you to remain in your room and no more nightly escapades...especially now."  
  
She flushed scarlet. "Yes, Professor," she muttered.  
  
Elizabeth wandered down the hall, taking her time before reaching her Common Room. She was going so slowly that it seemed she was standing still. Finally, she gave it up and leaned against the chilly wall to eye the dancing flames in the torches.  
  
Elizabeth honestly did feel ill. She wasn't so proud of her exchange of words with her concerned friend that morning. Deep down, Elizabeth believed she had done the correct thing to ensure the safety of her classmates. She saw hanging on others and maybe getting them killed was cowardly or selfish. Of course, she was right. What kind of Gryffindor would I be then? If her decision was so right, why did she keep replaying their fight in her head like a broken record? Why did she feel she had done something horrible?  
  
And then, there was her lack of bravery. The episode in McGonagall's office proved beyond a doubt that she was afraid of her own classmates and what they thought of her. What on earth? How can I take care of my problems when I feel so scared?! Scared of being alone? What would my father think of me? She just needed to sit for awhile and collect herself. Sure.  
  
Sitting down and crossing her legs, Elizabeth sorted through her thoughts. It is normal to be afraid; it's what I do while being afraid that matters. Seeing her behavior in that office was a good reflection. She wouldn't hesitate because of fear. She would take on anything no matter how frightened she might be. Elizabeth got to her feet and looked forward to napping a little before hitting the library.  
  
"Elizabeth." A soft voice broke into her thoughts.  
  
Josephine Finch-Fletchley stood nervously a few feet away. Elizabeth couldn't make out her expression in the shadows. Should I just keep moving and ignore her? Before she could make her decision, Josephine began to speak.  
  
"Listen, I...I understand why you acted the way you did this morning. I kind of woke up during the middle of you guys fighting. And, although what you said was kind of mean, I understand why. You don't want anyone to get hurt because of who you are."  
  
Elizabeth didn't know how to respond due to her shock.  
  
"I've felt that way before. You know, when you saved my life...when Lilith Malfoy tried to hurt me. She...thinks I weak, easy to push around. Sometimes, I wish I could be stronger and like somebody else...like you. Then, no one would be hurt for being around me," the girl stammered. "I know that's nothing compared to what happened to you. But...I t-think sometimes we all need to lean on somebody else whom we can trust. If we stick together, we can be strong together...It sounds kind of corny but...what I'm trying to say...you don't have to be alone to be strong or brave. It's not a bad thing to trust somebody else. You were there for me. I can be there for you."  
  
Elizabeth was glad it was dark because she felt tears welling up in her eyes. No body had ever spoken to her like this. Josephine seemed to really understanding her. But! How could she allow this girl to possibly get hurt?! She regained her voice.  
  
"Thank you. I can't tell you...you're the first person to ever truly understand why I..."  
  
She wasn't supposed to be saying that! She was supposed to distance herself as much as possible. But could she...  
  
"Let me help you...I won't question you or hang on you. I just want you to know I'm your friend and you can lean on me if you need to."  
  
She was crying now. Sure, Elizabeth had cried before but not because of what anyone else had said nicely. This was new. Josephine stepped up and put her hand lightly on Elizabeth's arm. Elizabeth quickly regained her composure.  
  
"Thanks...I'm alright, really. And I know you're my friend. I trust you."  
  
Josephine smiled gently. There was a moment of comfortable silence.  
  
"Are you going to the meeting?" Josephine asked. "Want to walk together?"  
  
"I talked to McGonagall, and she said it was a good idea if I remain in the Common Room." Not exactly the truth but very close and brushing it.  
  
"Well, I tell you how it goes, okay. Get some rest and I'll talk to you later."  
  
As they went their separate ways, they were still connected by their talk. Elizabeth knew she would have to protect Josephine, but she also knew she wasn't so alone. She had a friend.  
  
Elizabeth waited until the Common Room was empty. She would wait for about ten minutes and then attack the library.  
  
Now that she thought about it she wished she had told Dumbledore about the shadow boy. Maybe she made a big mistake. HE knew I wouldn't tell anyone. Now I'm going to look like a liar. But... Dumbledore will understand. Maybe Tonks would understand.  
  
Elizabeth knew she had to focus. She might as well make good use of her time.  
  
She would tell Dumbledore in detail about the murder of Zacharias Smith afterwards.  
  
Picture Hogwarts Library without Madam Pince clicking about. Think paradise.  
  
Elizabeth crept in silently, looking around at the empty librarian desk, an once-in-a-lifetime sight she assumed. Heck, she would be the only one to ever see that!  
  
For starters, she wanted to look at the yearbooks. That boy's face burned in her mind, and Elizabeth wouldn't be able to think clearly until she knew his name. This will take ages!  
  
For a good half-an-hour, Elizabeth poured feverishly over every annual she could get her hands on. Her legs were numb from sitting on them. Stretching, she grabbed an annual randomly from the third shelf. Wonder what house shadow boy was in?  
  
Naturally, the name Slytherin popped into her mind in a flash. He did kill somebody after all! On second thought, would a Slytherin or Ravenclaw be stupid enough to get trapped in-between worlds? Probably not, but she was no expert on the matter at hand.  
  
She opened the yellowing book to the middle and her heart skipped a beat as she saw her surname. James Harold Potter. The very same James who loved Lily, etched on the back of the phoenix.  
  
For a moment, as she eyed the man under the picture reverently, her mind played a dirty trick on her; she thought he looked a lot like shadow boy. Her mouth dropped. No way! She calmed down as she noticed major differences between the two faces and wanted to give herself a good kick in the rear. Mistaking my grandfather for that heartless, cold-!  
  
No! Shadow boy had a leaner, more structured, somber face and narrower eyes. A face that contained utter seriousness and eyes that gazed at another place with his mind on something else in the future or the past...he was a wanderer through time. He even had darker hair, a shade of midnight black and ink, and he definitely didn't look like a guy who needed glasses. Though he looked mischievous, the young man on the page possessed a kinder face that didn't seem able to give such cold looks as the shade did. James Potter was much too ruffled and untidy looking to be a sinister guy.  
  
Becoming gloomy, Elizabeth swiftly shut the annual and carefully placed the book back in its proper place. She consciously searched for a yearbook of a later date and one placed further away from the sacred shelf. The forties...  
  
She picked the one in the middle for the middle was always where the best books were placed as a rule and following that same rule, she opened the book in the middle with gusto... Elizabeth Potter was horrified. She had never seen such an act of careless hate in her life! The face on the middle of the page was completely scratched out and covered with ink; the name had been scratched and torn as well. All that was left of this memory was three letters: Tho...for what...maybe Thomas, but how the heck was she to be sure?! It scared her how much anger was directed...who on earth would bother to do something so petty?  
  
It felt creepy to beholding a book full of bad memories so she quickly discarded the book. She didn't bother to look in any more yearbooks. Something told her she had found shadow boy although some fool denied her the knowledge of his name. Thanks a lot!  
  
Elizabeth was terribly frustrated. All her efforts were in vain! In an act of rebelliousness against the way things were preceding, she barged into the Restricted Section with no idea where to start. Rather violently, she got on her knees and started skimming the names of the books with her hand.  
  
Hands of Fate: Heritage of Magic Today fell in her lap with a thump, spraying dust everywhere. Elizabeth couldn't hold back a cough as the dust invaded her nose. The huge book (she barely was able to lift it) was fairly worn and musty smelling with some pages missing and stains here and there. The old parchment seemed perfectly harmless and here it was in the Restricted Section.  
  
Strange... Elizabeth quickly repeated the silencing charm. She had heard the Restricted Books were apt to scream at you. But the book didn't wiggle or jump out of her hands in protest. The Hands of Fate had no wards or charms at all. On the inside of the cover was a curious silver seal that read Forbidden by the Hogwarts High Inquisitor, Dolores Jane Umbridge. High Inquisitor, that sounds rather cheap. Was she just highly inquisitive?  
  
The runes young witches and wizards study today date back to the Paleolithic era, the first dawning of magical mastery. The divination and system of runes were assumedly founded by the Volsungr, an ancient tribe from the North. The word rune literally means secret, a translation stemming from the discovery of spiritual foreknowledge in the supernatural realm. As runes were adopted by the Anglo-Saxon alphabet, the system was known nominally as FUThark. The importance of such a written system is extraordinary. In the ancient evolutions of magic, written symbols held more power than other Wizarding forms and were based on the symmetry and flow of nature. Such practices sprung forth from two cultural points that are related by the Iberian race, the earliest magical wielders. One main source is Egypt (see Cult of the Dead pg. 149). The other source brewed right in the British Isles before the Roman Conquest (also see Horde of the Dead pg. 150). Each rune has its own magical properties and can be joined in a variety of ways for various needs. The blank stone or Wyrd is the most foreboding rune as it indicates events out of one's control and left for fate to decide. The most common methods in rune usage are a magical talismans and/or a scope to focus magical energy to perform extremely difficult spells. All know runes are listed below:  
  
Elizabeth scanned rapidly with her finger across the pages, occasionally lifting her bangs to see. There... She blinked. Someone had circled various runes boldly with handwriting in the margins. Handwriting she had seen only just last night! HE read this book once when he was alive. Elizabeth ran her hand across his writing in order to confirm the markings on the page. She felt a little ill when she saw he had circle the Thorn. She eyed his words warily as if they were liable to spring up and attack. His elegant hand wrote the word Secundae.  
  
Thorn Thurisaz Thorn Bush (pronounced as thin)  
  
The Thorn is literally a written symbol meaning troll, ogre, demon, giant, and the thorn bush. It's actually meaning in divination is ambiguous and heavily debated. But all authorities agree that this rune has highly negative magical properties. This rune's patron god is Loki, the shape- shifter and trickster. This demon-rune has the ability to combat any other runes' properties though eihwaz and pethro are highly powerful against it. The thorn's most common use in the earliest years was to invoke dark spirits from the underworld. The rune is generally regarded as a tool to the forbidden art of necromancy. This rune has shape-shifting properties that are drawn from its ogre heritage. The possible necromancy connections associated with this rune has made many wizards hesitant to use it. The only two supposed broad users of this infamous sign were by a branch of Celtic wizards whose practices are for the most part unknown and this division's descendents.  
  
The latter group who wields the Thorn as a mark is stated to not even exist by the majority in the Ministry of Magic. However, many records mention that the Thorn has been seen on the dawn of every new decade on the eve of Samhain (further connected with the Cult of the Dead) and often in between during times of turmoil. During the reign of Grindlewald, eye witnesses say the Thorn rose above the besieged Ministry when the Dark One almost took control. The Thorn also contributed to Grindlewald's defeat; supposedly, the sign illuminated his location several times until Auror A--- --.  
  
The name had been marked through violently with a quill. Three guesses whose quill it was...  
  
It has been said by the more superstitious who believe in this nameless group's existence that throughout the time line of man the Thorn- wielders played a major part in the formation of the modern magical world after the Roman Conquest of Britannia. To sum it up, these wizards are the hands of fate. Of course, this group might not even exist and the Thorn has been used lightly by troublemakers to stir up the community. The Ministry of Magic has heavily investigated any possible leads and claims the rumors to be, to put it simply, "rubbish". If this group does exist, it is thought to be heavily malevolent and threatening to the general good due to its rumored dedication to the Wyrd and supernatural even demonic forces. Furthermore, the possibility of the Thorn-wielders using necromancy and corpse-herding (an ancient practice formed in the Orient) to contact such forces may be close to the reality of their arts.  
  
Do they think its rubbish now? After what happened to my family?! And what the heck is this whole cult of the dead thing?  
  
Elizabeth flipped frantically to page 150 only to discover that these pages had been ripped out. All that was left were the jagged pieces. Oh, that's just great...  
  
But there is still pethro. Finally I'll learn what that stupid word means!  
  
Pethro Fruit Tree  
  
This rune is particularly difficult to decipher, contributing to its common name as a rune of riddles, mysteries, and things existing not as they seem. Its ethereal magical harness on improving the mind has also given it the name 'Rune of Revelation'. A literal translation in the Anglo- Saxon alphabet can range from hearth or fruit tree. It's a rune of rebirth (relating to the Phoenix properties of healing and Divination) and magical powers on earth that are married into nature. That's why it's most likely meaning is fruit tree; fruit tree could be synonymous with elder 'The Witch's Tree', a most sought after tool in difficult potions and in some rare cases, wand forging. The said wand would be quite useful in all branches of magic especially the healing arts.  
  
Elder...my wand!  
  
Elizabeth examined her wand suspiciously. What are the chances?!  
  
She couldn't bring herself to dislike her magical wand because its connection to Pethro and Smith was something it couldn't help. The fact that this wand was made for her only and vice versa seemed like a trick lot of fate. This discovery or 'revelation' as the case may be served to enforce her fear that somehow she was behind the horrid events descending on the Magical World.  
  
Wait! Pethro (elder)...my wand works well against the Thorn! That has to be a good thing, right!  
  
Her hope was renewed. What else works against the Thorn? Eihwaz, was it?  
  
Eihwaz Yew (winter tree) (pronounced 'yet')  
  
This rune is also key to rebirth but not in the sense of rising. Eihwaz means the actual death of the life cycle like degeneration and rebirth. That is why in Celtic tales the gather of dead souls Odin was patron of this rune. Eihwaz works opposite of Pethro as the causer of death. Yew is quite effectively used as a main ingredient of fatal poison and permanent sleeping drafts like the Draught of Living Death. In a standard rune- reading, this rune might mean a tragic past or emotional problems linked to family.  
  
Ydalir, the birth place of one of the Unforgivable Curses as well as Legilimency, was an ancient hall that is now Unplottable. Its location has never been recorded, and this foundation of magical heritage exists only in the ancient writings. According to the myths, Ydalir was built entirely of yew and the Eihwaz was the key to most of the magic performed there. Yet, for all yew's negative uses, this wood as well as the rune can be used as a charm against necromancy and invoked curses. Any wand with this wood would be excellent at magical defense.  
  
Well, that's all fine and dandy. But I still don't know anything I can really use!  
  
Elizabeth almost put the book back but instead placed it in her bag. She figured no one would miss it. It might come in handy. Shadow boy had certainly found the book interesting. Perhaps he still has the torn pages with him.  
  
Her hand grazed the dry scales, and she yielded and took out the Thorn. She opened it to the middle. What the... The writing was in another language! She laughed. What a day!  
  
The lines were all waving and sharp. The 'words' all seemed to flow together and had no divisions. Basically, it looked like the writing of a two-year old on a sugar high.  
  
Looking at the writing made her feel weird. Cold...  
  
Harry, oh gods, what's happening?! Stay here! NO! YOU CAN'T LEAVE US HERE! WE NEED YOU! STAY AND PROTECT YOUR CHILDREN FOR-  
  
So cold...  
  
Who the de- Smith flying...crack...Westley...he's coming up here...oh please, mum...make him stay!! And the cold...touch in the dark...  
  
Something dry and rattling through the air, something draining, feeding in the air...  
  
Her vision was getting fuzzy...she was going down- pain! In her left hand! Pain dragging her awake! Her body and mind were so cold...something was in the air—in the library! With her now!  
  
Elizabeth fell on her stomach in an attempt to peek under the shelves and to see it before it saw her.  
  
A dark figure, an unnatural one, who doesn't even touch the ground and doesn't need to walk the earth while rasping and searching! A hand shows under its cloak.  
  
TOUCH!  
  
That hand belonged to a skeleton; it was a hand of something that rotted too long and had been forgotten under black, mossy water. It drew in another rasping breath, and she drowned in the coldness.  
  
MOVE, YOU STUPID GIRL! Someone, some guy hissed at her. A cold voice... Her left hand throbbed and became hot as though a hot poker was being pressed on her skin.  
  
I CAN'T!!  
  
She lurched forward on all fours while trying to hold on to the shelves and tons of books hit the floor. Something changed in the air; she felt motion in the air and heard a sudden whoosh. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and it was behind her. Elizabeth was pushed to her feet with elder in her throbbing hand and almost slipped on the books that lay everywhere trying to trip her up. She thought she saw the whole shelf collapse. She whipped around quickly, but it was all in slow motion. Pitch black was in front of her with its hands reaching and wanting to drag her into the black water where it had rotted and been forgotten. Be forgotten with me...to die is to live... But that wasn't the worst thing that happened. In that time of need, Elizabeth Potter was pushed again to the back of her mind.  
  
Later, when she tried to describe it to herself and figure it out, she would have to say it was like watching a movie in a safe room. You were utterly detached but interesting in the events playing out on the screen.  
  
Her body stood straight up. She was suddenly taller. Her mouth smirked. Her arm raised her wand in her left, marred, burning hand with flourish. A guy's voice, deep and full of murmurs, emerged and bled into her voice. It was a voice of layers.  
  
"Expecto Patronum," the voice said carelessly. Out of the tip of her wand burst a quicksilver serpent.  
  
The pitch black left as it zoomed across the library floor and out the doors. Elizabeth watched as her left hand twirled her wand between her cold yet nimble fingers.  
  
STOP IT!  
  
Her hand threw her wand down violently and when it hit the floor, she was back fully and completely. She was the actress again, and she was being watched by the shadows.  
  
He turned, so gray he almost blended into the wall. She knew where to look because she felt him as she had felt him in her voice and her left hand. In my mind! She was him for that brief moment.  
  
"H-HEY YOU, WAIT! COME B-BACK HERE! TOM!" she croaked after him.  
  
He froze.  
  
She stared a hole in his back. She wished she could move, but she was so tired. Elizabeth was smiling! She was triumphant for she knew his name. He would turn around, come back, and explain himself. He would explain everything. Because she had power, she knew his name.  
  
You can't imagine how offended she was when he disappeared into the grey and took her necklace and pride with him. It was as if she didn't matter at all!  
  
Elizabeth fumed. Then she heard a high pitched voice approaching the library. Incoming!  
  
She scooped up the snake book, bag, and her wand while throwing on her cloak just in the nick of time. Madam Pince stood in the entry, her mouth at her knees. The old, prune-like woman was twitching. Her wrinkled mouth opened wider and wider. It's time for me to go!  
  
Elizabeth edged along the side, eying the woman as if she was trapped in a cage with a cobra. Finally, she reached the door and wobbled towards the staircase. Elizabeth heard Madam Pince's screams all the way to the fifth floor.  
  
Elizabeth couldn't move very fast. Her limbs trembled and were icy-cold. Her knees threatened to give out; her teeth chattered. And in my head...forgotten...Elizabeth felt empty of any happiness. She would never be cheerful again. She didn't have the right for she was a liar.  
  
I protected shadow boy, and he seems to protect me. He is cruel...beautiful and cruel...he saving me to kill me, I know it as sure as I stand here. I felt him. He's bound here by hate and knows nothing else. And he thinks he's a god. I know and can't tell anyone because...it seems like betraying him. Someone I don't know and don't want to know! I have no control anywhere in this world, not even over my own body. She was asleep yet in motion. She was writing a message in dust in a white room. He watched.  
  
He wants to push me; he wants to see how far and how hard he can push until I go over the edge and lose myself... become a shadow of myself. Death came but shadow boy wants me all to himself. With him in that graveyard of light, in shadows!  
  
The murmuring of the waves, lulling and timeless...You belong to me. It's been written in ink, blood, and your flesh. Your name is in my book and has been before you were born. The fools tried to cheat me. Do not try and cheat me, Faye, because I AM.  
  
Elizabeth wondered if her eyes were an ocean of red when he was there in her hands and mind. In that moment, she had ceased to exist. She was locked up somewhere again but not by an arrogant man hording control over young children. Elizabeth had become locked up in her mind which was her only source of freedom. Her freedom was precious to her. He dares?! He thinks he can control me. I'll force him into the shadows for good. I'll fight him!  
  
But how? What could she possibly do? He's playing with her. She needed to confront and talk to him.  
  
But first, Dumbledore...  
  
The phoenix statue served as a reminder to her lost treasure in darkness. Ink, blood, and your flesh...flesh of your flesh.  
  
The scarlet, jeweled eyes of the bringer of rebirth seemed cold...so cold. The phoenix statue was not a promise but a lie. It was now just cold stone. She hoped the man in his office would be kinder.  
  
"Cockroach clusters," Elizabeth said and the bird moved aside. She wobbled up the circling stairway not minding the dark as much while dragging her cloak wearily behind her.  
  
"You dare bring Dementors into this school? ARE YOU MAD?! I thought you were a rational man but your actions today speak of-m..." McGonagall's voice faded behind the Headmaster's.  
  
"It speaks of cowardice. I often wonder, Percival, how you were sorted into Gryffindor judging by your behavior?" Dumbledore sounded sad.  
  
"S-SEE HERE! YOU THINK YOU CAN SPEAK TO ME IN THAT MANNER?! I'M THE MINISTER OF MAGIC! YOU FOOL-who are you to judge me? Have you not seen what has been happening out there to the people? ARE YOU BLIND?! I should think you'd have the sense to see it ...but you are useless now! All you are concerned with now is your position as Headmaster of this school! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN HIDING?!"  
  
"How dare you speak of blind love of positions to Albus?! You of all...YOU HPYOCRITE! You aren't worthy enough to look at this man, you! " McGonagall's voice trembled.  
  
"Minerva, be silent. Let's hear his accusations. He has come along way."  
  
There was the rustling of paper, un-crinkled by trembling and immaculate hands.  
  
"I have here a letter from a terrified student claiming that you and your staff are covering up a murder! That Elizabeth Potter was involved in a death of a man! Now, you know the law! She must be questioned by the Ministry before she is considered innocent! Why did you not come forward with this information?! AND WHERE'S THE BODY?! Y-You're withholding evidence!! I don't know how arrogant...or delusional you've become about your position, Dumbledore, but don't you forget that the only reason you're in the school right now is because no one else is willing to take the job except members of your staff whose character is dubious! I required Dementors to accompany me! FOR MY SAFETY!"  
  
"Dubious indeed...you are being generous, Minister," a snobby voice drawled.  
  
Don't tell me Malfoy's in there!  
  
"BE QUIET, YOU-YOU! YOU RODENT! YOU FERRET-!"  
  
"Minerva! Go reassure the students. Make sure everyone is accounted for."  
  
McGonagall realized what Dumbledore meant and so did Elizabeth. She fumbled with her cloak and staggered back down the stairway just as McGonagall, red- faced and tight-mouthed, opened the door.  
  
"Tacitus," Elizabeth whispered and tried to sprint down the hall. McGonagall paused in concern when she saw the phoenix was moved aside. This gave Elizabeth Potter the precious and rare commodity of time.  
  
Elizabeth threw her bag under her bed with her cloak and hurled herself onto the bed. She had just shut her eyes in what she hoped was the best acted sleep of her career when the door opened and the bed curtains parted.  
  
"Potter, I...what are you still doing in your school uniform?" McGonagall growled. The question was tense and sent by a voice of a woman who was on her last leg.  
  
"Wh-wh-oh! Professor? What time is it?" Elizabeth yawned, stretched her arms, and blinked sleepily as though she was far-sighted. She arranged her face in a dumbfounded expression with her mouth hanging open slightly.  
  
"I see...you make it a habit of sleeping in your uniform, Potter...If you don't mind me saying, I find that highly doubtful."  
  
"I-I don't usually. I guess I just fell to sleep when I reached the bed. Um...did something happen? Where is everyone? Did the meeting last for that long? Gosh."  
  
McGonagall eyed her suspiciously, biting her lip in self-restraint. After a pause...  
  
"There was an incident, and I was sent to check on you. There are...Dementors in Hogwarts at the moment. These creatures are extremely hostile and will attack you even if un-provoked. The Minister brought them with him to investigate the school and the Forbidden Forest. The situation is under control, but it is unlikely your dorm mates will be able to leave the Great Hall for the night. You will stay put and- Potter, are you alright?"  
  
The cold wouldn't seep out of her bones, and she had started to shiver uncontrollably. It was difficult, pretending to be interested in what McGonagall was saying.  
  
"F-Fine. I-I'm perfectly f-f-fine," she chattered. McGonagall reached out to feel Elizabeth's forehead.  
  
"Heavens! Potter, you're like ice!! What on-!"  
  
"I-I don't l-like to fe-el to w-warm at nights s-so Sandy gave me thi-s-s cooling ch-charm, and I guess I-go-t car-ried away!" That was so feeble.  
  
"You had time to cast a second year charm and didn't find the time to take off your uniform." Uh-oh!  
  
"W-Well, a th-third year t-taught me a-and it's su-pposed to active-vate when I c-come to bed." No way is she going to believe that!  
  
"Oh!" McGonagall sounded impressed. "That is a very practical application of the Algorum Charm. Here, Potter. 'Aestus estus!'"  
  
The outside of her body felt warm but on the inside, there was scant improvement. But she controlled her teeth to prevent chattering.  
  
"T-Thank you, Professor."  
  
"Think nothing of it, Potter. I must check on the rest of your classmates now. I will charm the doors to prevent any intrusion from a Dementor. Do not move from this room under any circumstance. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes, Professor.  
  
The witch was about to turn away but halted, squinting at Elizabeth' forehead with a dawning expression of disbelief. Elizabeth's hand flew up quickly and smoothed down her ruffled bangs.  
  
"Potter..." Her voice was so soft it was almost pleading. No more memories...  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Nothing. I thought for a moment... It was nothing, dear. Don't concern yourself. You'll be safe in Gryffindor Tower." Elizabeth watched the emerald cloak disappear into the dark.  
  
Elizabeth was in shock. McGonagall was definitely not the type to use the word 'dear'! The matter-of-fact woman almost seemed to doubt herself, and she had left so quickly as though not daring or wanting to stay to confirm her suspicions. Her eyes had reflected fear...no acceptance. The woman was clearly frightened of something....of me?  
  
She had scorned her reflection since Smith had dragged her into the in- between, her blood, and her worst fear of isolation. In-between is where the unwanted ones belong. No world wanted them so they dwell forgotten in- between reflections of those desired worlds. No wonder shadow boy...no wonder Tom is so cold. Elizabeth looked down at her feet in thought as she walked towards the first-year girl's large mirror that they all giggled in front of. Not that she ever had giggled.  
  
She placed her hands on the cold marble and faced herself suddenly with a jerk of her head. Marble...wild and pale...no life in the cheeks...that's not me! That is someone else in there! Something mimicking me, not human with a mask! It's wearing a mask. That's not my face. The girl in the mirror had no expression and no emotion in her eyes. Like plaster... Such indifference! Eyes burning bright... She forced her eyes to focus and relaxed at the familiarity now. Her green eyes...no one else's. Just breathe! This is me all right! A bit untidy with her auburn hair sticking every which way...pale but in a creamy-sort of way with life in her cheeks...a few freckles...and, as much as she hated to admit it, the trademark purple underneath her eyes. But the bags were her's. Nothing had changed at all. She didn't chance a look at her forehead, but everything else was fine. Her forehead would be the same and dotted with one or two freckles. Growing confidant, she lifted up her bangs boldly. Marred...  
  
Just over the left eyebrow was darkened, bruised skin in the shape of a lightening bolt. He had burned her. He had chosen her path. You belong to me.  
  
Halloween was here. She knew nothing.  
  
Elizabeth collapsed after she had dragged herself to her bed. She slept in her uniform. The cold burned now in her bones. The real cold was gone. The afterimage was engrained in her bones. She had no nightmares for once, a rare occasion. Her subconscious must have declared a nightmare a waste as her conscious life was rapidly becoming the biggest night terror of all.  
  
Halloween was here. She did nothing.  
  
Her dorm mates returned in the early morning hours but left. She, the actress, played the role; she slept, and they whispered. Josephine stayed behind. She slept until Josephine left. She discovered toast and jam on the table beside her bed. It tasted stale and bitter in her dry mouth, and she had no water.  
  
Halloween was here. She felt nothing.  
  
Voices outside the door...laughter outside the door...in the Common Room, they played Wizard's Chess and Wizard Snaps. Crack. The crisis was over. The Common Room glowed with warmth. Her room...the mirror shone like ice.  
  
Halloween was here. She was nothing. He was something. She slept.  
  
"Elizabeth." She climbed toward the light. She awoke.  
  
The sun burned angrily on the wall in protest as the night bled into the sky. The last color perhaps that burns and dances in her eyes. Red...  
  
Josephine peeked around the door, flushed from laughter.  
  
"We're heading to the Halloween Feast. Are you coming?"  
  
"Yeah! Hold on for a minute, okay!" I'm acting. Ask me what's wrong, and I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything if just to buy time. I want you to know...if I disappear into the shadows, I want you to know what happened. I don't want to be forgotten.  
  
"Okay. I'll be by the opening."  
  
Elizabeth didn't bother to fix up. She grabbed her bag, her cloak, and her wand. She picked up her grandmother's scarf to keep warm.  
  
As last meals go, it wasn't too shabby. Pumpkin juice, pumpkin pastries, pumpkin pie, and top it all off with Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans! The ceiling was bewitched with the sparkling night sky. Each twinkle was a treasure. The stars formed shapes. She thought she spotted a highly suspicious looking triangle that was shining brightly and laughing too. She studied the knots on the table. Laughter and clatters that were all around were comforting...people were having a great time. The air was light and tension free. Whatever Dumbledore had said worked.  
  
Dumbledore...  
  
Elizabeth gazed at the High Table for the first time during the feast. She noted one missing chair. There was no one with twinkling eyes and an understanding wink in the middle seat...where the best is always placed. On the night of her judgment, Dumbledore was gone.  
  
She eyed someone's watch fiercely. Feeling uncomfortable, he moved his arm under the table. No worries. It was time.  
  
Elizabeth closed the Great Hall's groaning doors and successful blocked a few accusing stares at her back. Light was dancing fiercely on the tapestries, making the Griffin look alive and waging a war with the dark.  
  
The autumn air loomed in the castle. No, she was being foolish. In castles, the coolness of the stone was always dominant. That's what gave castles their power. The indifference! The way a chill awakes that hidden part of you as the adrenaline grows with the realization of your smallness and the secrets that do not include you. The stone doesn't need you, doesn't care for you, and won't remember you. You want it to remember you...you want to become a part of it as it will remain long after you are gone.  
  
Elizabeth wandered around while vaguely wondering how she would know where to go. She lost track of the numerous corridors she had traveled as she just picked a hall and trudged blindly forward. Her legs were starting to grow sore. Elizabeth wrapped her scarf around her shivering shoulders. At one point, the air misted when she breathed. The cold in her limbs still hadn't vanished.  
  
Hurrying by a window, she spotted the blots of black that the lake didn't dare reflect. Dementors swarmed around the Forbidden Forest. She thought one lifted it head in response to her stare. Remember me. Elizabeth kept moving.  
  
Then she got her sign at last.  
  
The small light she was granted covered the entire walls except for one place where the light seemed not to be able to touch. That one place had a reddish glaze of its own and...Is it alive? The red mixed with flecks of gold and danced feverishly in a whirlwind like miniscule pixies. Garnet time...with some of me in it...forever...It was contents from the mirror. She couldn't help but touch the spot. The tip of her finger seemed to have departed to the in-between.  
  
"Lumos."  
  
With her wand, it was easy to spot the trail his fingers had traced. She tried not to laugh hysterically in her fear. She giggled a bit and covered her shaking lips. As she had traveled, Elizabeth had begun to believe she would not know where to go and not meet him at all. Something burned in her mind. How did he know to start the path here of all the halls in the school? How had he known I would come here?  
  
Elizabeth followed the winding trail diligently; she tried to find the flecks flung all about as if the artist had undergone several bouts of mood swings. Finally, the trail ended at an apparent dead-end. Now what?! She stepped back to study the obstacle and saw the light from her wand slipped underneath and in between the stones. Apparently, there was something behind the wall. Elizabeth felt along the cracks in the hope of finding the door when a hissing resounded from all around her. She jumped, expecting to find a deadly serpent near her feet. Nothing there...the hissing filled her head, and she became dizzy in response. Not from fear but from something else...some part of her had clicked in response to the sound. Her left hand bit in response. Everything was a reaction to a cause chosen for her.  
  
When she regained herself, the obstacle was gone and the path only traveled by one before her was revealed. The stones were black as though covered in ink by the moody artist. No light at all...Elizabeth kneeled on the floor, hitting her forehead with her fist. WHY DID HE?! HOW COULD HE?! I'll show him!! This won't stop me.  
  
"Lumos!" she called into the darkness. Nothing...the faint light at the tip of her wand was extinguished instantly. Something was holding light away. She bit her lip and pushed herself forward. She ran on shaky legs wildly through the dark. She shrieked as hit the wall and guided herself with her frantic hands. Teeth bared, her breathing transformed into a battle cry, and she couldn't form a coherent thought. Don't touch me! Elizabeth felt as she pounded the stone that the corridor winded upward so she figured she would end up in a tower of some sort. She was right.  
  
An empty tower with a few green chairs placed haphazardly on a rug of green and silver bound and winding together...the wind hissed angrily through the open window and the almost dead fire crackled in protest. Something was in this room. A presence...not him...something older...her hairs stood up as a flow of...magic hit her skin...it was magic! It gave her the same feeling as when she flew the bed. Her magic had warmed her inside like a thousand candles burning. This was everywhere; she breathed it in.  
  
Approaching the wind and fighting the breeze, a wide-eyed Elizabeth saw that the mystery tower faced the opposite of Gryffindor's Tower. Elizabeth froze, almost falling out the window. She gripped the seal tightly as the realization hit her. I never saw a tower from the Common Room or my dorm or any room in the school. ON THE GROUNDS...NOTHING! What plane of existence had she traveled to? Was this something like the in-between? AM I STUCK IN NOTHINGNESS?!  
  
"Don't be a fool. It's a Shielding Spell cast by one of the greatest wizards in history, Salazar Slytherin." Murmuring...drowning...  
  
She spun around with her wand raised. The room was empty. What?! He was all around her. At any moment, he could strike.  
  
"Quite impressive, isn't it? Imagine how vast his power was...and is that his spells stood through time. Can't you feel it...his power now in this very room? I doubt someone like you can comprehend the magnitude...and that power flows throughout his blood. One can almost say he's immortal."  
  
"Quit playing around and s-show yourself!"  
  
Elizabeth wished her voice hadn't cracked at that critical moment. He showed himself indeed...right in front of her. She screamed in shock; suddenly, the emptiness was filled and he was only an inch away, towering over her. He reached out, tapping her forehead sharply, and a jolt tinged in her head. Her breath caught frantically as she tried to learn how to breathe the new air.  
  
She shoved him back fiercely, eager to put to space between them, when she hit nothingness for real. She had backed into the space of the window and lost her balance.  
  
Clinging to nothing with desperate hands, Elizabeth saw the grounds looming down below. In the time it took for half her flailing body to get out of the window, the Dementors had massed at the bottom, looking upward and waiting. But the impact never came...  
  
A large hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to her feet and away from the window. On a whim, he let go suddenly, and she hit the floor with a thud.  
  
That hurt! Wait! He can touch me even if I'm not in-between!  
  
"You are...in-between. I have the power to bring you here anytime I desire to." His voice overflowed with arrogance. Smirking at her, he leaned against the wall and awaited her response.  
  
She had a response alright!  
  
"Oh, you think you have power, do you?! All you seem to be able to do is wander about in-between and stand in the halls staring at people! You're a big...nothing, that's what you are!" What are you?  
  
Hatred...his eyes once burned with indifference and superiority...now they...such hatred...  
  
He grew rigid by the wall as he stared down at her. She lowered her gaze to his hands that he had clenched in fury. He bleeds black! A black liquid flowed between his fingers and dripped on the stone. In a dark flash, he came towards her, face barely illuminate by the flames. His eyes she saw perfectly clearly, a light of their own by power. Tyger, Tyger burning bright...blood and ink...  
  
She scootched back as far as she could and her back hit a cold, unyielding wall.  
  
"W-what are you going to do?" 


End file.
